


Woman of Sorrows-The Girl Forgotten

by cchilelli



Series: Woman of Sorrows [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Dark Fantasy, Elemental Magic, Emotional Baggage, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Falling In Love, Fantasy Romance, First Book, First Love, First Meetings, High Fantasy, Love at First Sight, Magic, Medieval, Medieval Fantasy, Oppression, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Fantasy, Original Fiction, Original work - Freeform, Past Abuse, Romance, Slavery, Swords, cliches, epic fantasy, powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 33
Words: 102,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24622738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cchilelli/pseuds/cchilelli
Summary: In a world ruled by Dendä, an ancient and mysterious race, Chalandra must rise from the ashes in order to save an innocent life from suffering the same fate as her. While Chalandra finds freedom from her master, her only hope is to live in the shadows and hide herself from the world. Fallen from grace and powerless, Chalandra must come to terms with her past in order to begin her future. With the support of a stranger, Chalandra must to learn to trust again, if only to begin to find her place in the world.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: Woman of Sorrows [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1782094





	1. In Remembrace of Days Past

A lone man atop a dirty bay stallion journeyed along the endless, hopeless, road. His black hair was tied back, coated in dried sweat and oil. He had been riding for weeks now, months, even, an aimless wanderer. His stallion plodded jadedly, and the traveler sat slumped on his back, bent over from years of hardship. No longer did he hold his head high with the pride of his youth. He did not dream of a bright, shining future. Gone were the thoughts of joy, happiness, love and satisfaction. The days of fulfillment ended, so quick that he had hardly enjoyed the sensation. The only future he now dreamed of was death. The only thing he desired, was death. To sleep endlessly away from the toils of earth, away from anger, and bloodshed, and hate. Away from pain and a body wearing thin. But most of all free from his suffering, sorrow, and despair.  
So long had he been broken by grief that happiness had become a distant glimmer of memory, like looking back at the beginning of a tunnel. His heart had been broken, shattered into a million pieces and so far beyond repair. Many a woman had turned his way, in an attempt to try and woo the handsome man when he had been young. But none had healed him, they simply tore his heart into more unmendable shreds. Not one who lived could ever stop the flow of his sorrows. Never had he looked at a woman gently, with love in his eyes. That light had long since dulled as his hands grew more calloused, his body, more worn. Every night, he drank away his sorrows then fell into the fitful sleep of a destroyed man. What did life or death matter to him now?  
Yet he continued to work, if only to fulfill her last request. The request of the one who had unwillingly condemned him to this destiny. She asked him, begged him, to go on, to live another life and to search for happiness that might grant him peace. But no. He endured, but she had taken his heart with her. As she had gone, so had his heart been yanked beyond grasp. There was nothing for him now, only the torment of a longing man.  
He had long since given up steering his stallion around rocks to keep silent. No reason for him to be quiet, as no one hunted him any longer, fallen as he was. The stallion's hooves clipped at rocks, the once mighty stallion tripped and faltered. Along behind them, the palomino mare ambled. The mare refused every rider, save her master, yet her master could hardly bear to look at the poor mare, so great his pain. Still, he was kind to her, he simply could not tolerate riding her.  
The man on his back sat slouched in the saddle. What he searched for did not matter. He simply journeyed, digging his heels into the sides of his horse, or pulling on his mouth. From town to town he wandered without purpose. He did not care to help those around him, he simply felt restless in his grief.  
The sky now started to darken. With it came the warm yellow light of the stars, like the first flowers after the winter snows had melted away. The horse felt his master straighten on his back and look up to the sky. The starlight touched the earth, the perfect, seamless blanket between black sky and dark earth. So beautiful. So pure. So painful.  
The man looked up, his breath stolen by the enchantment of the sky. The untouched, untainted bond between life and death. He could see the stars, and he could remember. He could remember everything. The good things, the wonderful things, and the terrible things that brought tears to his eyes. There was no distinction really, between the painful and the wonderful. It all hurt the same. That pain was the price he was doomed to pay. For the happiness he once had found, he now would pay in torment. Now, as the stars rose ever higher in the sky, he had to remember. To recall once more the dreams of days past, and the pains of his life. Yet within that pain, there was so much more. Joy, contentment and peace, but happiness now had turned to sorrow. Sorrow that would never be shaken. Since he had felt true, pure joy, he could not find contentment again. He would live, and in time, if time was merciful, he would die. Yet still, he had to remember.


	2. The Girl that Cowered

Three Years

Branches grabbing at her dress, the girl dashed from the meadow of long, dry grass into the thorns of black roses. The sharp fingers of the bramble clawed at her legs, begging her to stay. She fought the persistent grasp of the thorns and was soon free. Into the darker recesses of the forest she ran, desperate to escape that which hunted her. Behind her, in the dark, the shadow danced mockingly.  
The unending, unquenchable thirst. The untamable, uncontainable destruction. The dark, the dark. The shadow that always lived but did not always rule. The dark, the dark. The shadow that hunted her, always hunted her. The mischief of the night, that caused so much more than mere mischief. It was coming, it was always coming. No matter how far she ran, no matter how long she struggled, it was always behind her, always waiting. Waiting for one trip, one stumble, one falter. To claim her, to devour her.  
The girl pushed on, tearing free of the thorns. Her bare feet were stained red from the blood which streamed down her legs unchecked. Her heart pounded; her lungs struggled for air. There was so little she could do, yet so much she had to attempt. Even now, as the cold of the shadow closed tight around her, she fought. She would always fight, so long as there was breath left in her body.  
The forest slowly darkened, the trees loomed above her, blocking out all traces of sunlight. She glanced around quickly, for she knew the time before the shadow cast by nothing which sought her utter demise, came upon was short. She paused, frantically searching for a glimmer of light which might lead her from within the confinement of the ancient oak trees. Yet there was no path to light. No escape. She was trapped in the deep of the forest, the place others had warned her not to venture, for none returned from within the walls of the woods. As she ran, she tripped over a gnarled tree root, and her feet slipped out from under her. She inhaled sharply as she fell, landing awkwardly on her ankle as it slipped under her. She cried out, but there was no one to hear her, for she was miles from the nearest road. In vain, she pleaded for help, but there was no one to hear her pleas. Echo was the only voice that met her ear. She was damned, her cries lost to the wind. Desperate, she tried to stand, only to once again fall. Though pain overcame her, she managed to drag herself up and stagger a few steps if only to delay the inevitable for a moment longer.  
"You think you can escape me, girl?" the shadow boomed menacingly.  
The shadow. It found her. She tried to cry out, and yet, her voice failed her. Filled with terror, she tried to flee, only to find her legs gave way beneath her. Tears welled up in her eyes and streamed down her face, her body trembled with fear. The black shadow loomed above her, engulfing the light as it slowly descended upon her. Her heart thundered, trying to give her enough blood and oxygen to save her, but to no avail. The shadow advanced towards her, shrouding her in darkness. It consumed her, and in her last dying breaths, she could not so much as cry out, for it pierced her. As it forced itself into her lungs, employing them as an entryway to her body, she felt no pain, only power. Intoxicating, raw power. She was now his, body and soul.  
A sudden cascade of freezing water crashed over Chalandra, tearing her from the dream. The power which had just begun to pulse through her veins echoed a moment longer before leaving her helpless once again. Every night, every time she drifted off, it was the same dream. The shadow always claimed her, making her slave to its desires, but filling her with unmatchable power in exchange. Greneth, her master, loomed above her, his unmoving eyes stared her down. His greasy black hair was cut short, and meticulously kept. His chin stuck out too far, and he carried his head far too high for anyone's good. His tall, brooding frame stared down at her, waiting for her to move. Her body was paralyzed from the cold water he had used to wake her, yet, she forced herself to stumble to her feet. His lips parted just a little, revealing his yellowing teeth.  
"Useless girl," he muttered under his breath as he moved in closer to slap her across the face  
The sting from the blow came, and quickly passed, though it broke open an old scab that let a trickle of blood descend down her right cheek. She set her jaw with her hand, refusing to give him any pleasure from her pain.  
"Get to work," he hissed, turning his back on her and slinking off into the shadows, taking the sole candle which had brought light to the hallway with him.  
For a moment longer, she sat, watching the flickering candle disappear into the darkness from whence it had come. Once again, she was left, claimed by the very dark which haunted her dreams. Gathering herself as best she could and sluggishly rising to her feet, Chalandra grabbed a wooden bucket from the edge of the cold metal pump-against which she had drifted off midday-and filled it to the brim with water. Along with it, she collected a dampened rag hanging over the pump handle. Downtrodden and beaten, she had nothing more to live for. So long she had wanted to depart the earth that was so cruel to her, yet, so long she had endured.  
Down the hall she walked, lugging the bucket. Every day it seemed to grow heavier, or was she growing weaker? How long since a crust or even a morsel of bread had passed over her lips? Months. Centuries now had passed since she was given a proper meal. It had been when she first met Greneth-a day she now cursed in her memory. The hollow feeling of her stomach and the constant dryness of her mouth were only reminders of her own worthlessness. Still, no matter her wishes to have the gentle sleep take her, she would endure the curse of her people, her kind, the Dendä. They were cursed to live forever, their existence dragged out, until the day another deemed them unworthy of life and killed them by the blade or the arrow. Never was death merciful to them, their life had to be taken. They could never die of illness nor time, only injury.  
Once she reached the end of the hallway, she glanced briefly up at the enormous portrait of her master which at the end of the hallway. Every day, she was forced to work under it, watching the unmoving eyes of her cruel master judge her every move. She had long wished to burn that vile painting, yet, was stopped only by the fact she had not the supplies to do so.  
Chalandra sank to her knees dropping the bucket and rag at her side. Such menial work of no importance, contrived only to torture her, lessened her will to live. It had been so long since the footsteps of another echoed in these halls, or that the curtains had been pulled back to let in the sun. Chalandra was the sole inhabitant of this part of Greneth’s home, doomed to toil alone in the basement. The task of repeatedly scrubbing the hallway had been given to her to inflict indignity and pain, thought up by Greneth as punishment for her past sins. Centuries now had she been away from the light of day, and just as long without proper living conditions. Her home was the single cell in which he threw her; her sole companions, the rats that scurried along the floors and in the walls at night, glaring at her out of the dark with threatening red eyes. Greneth kept her in such conditions for fear she would escape, but what would be gained by leaving? She had no place in the world. She was forgotten, alone, and unloved.  
Though slavery was illegal in the Dendä kingdom, she was kept there year after year, with no hope of rescue. Her mighty lords did not care what happened in their kingdoms. Not enough to venture to the rotting, stinking home of a half-blooded diplomat, a man who was supposed to be keeping peace between the Dendä kingdoms and the world of men but was more concerned with his own wealth than with politics.  
So long she had been captive, so long subjected to this horrific life. She wished death upon herself. Once, she may have been beautiful, she might have become something, but no longer. Brushing aside a stray lock of her hip-length blonde hair, she sighed. Her pale, slender body was tainted by her long years of work. She was starved, and every bone in her body acted as proof. Forever, a Dendä could survive without food, and yet not die, but it would take its toll on their bodies. She had become a skeleton. Dirt, scabs, scars, bruises, and sores covered her body. There remained only one thing left to prove there was more to her. Her eyes-emerald green surrounded by a small black rim, protected by milky white irises. All veiled by her jet-black lashes, untainted by her past abuses. Though they too showed that life had all but left her, they still held a universe within and a spark capable of flaming up once more.  
For many long years, she had been going through the painful monotony of the same task, that she knew by instinct when her time there was done, if only for the day. Her back arched and her hands were once again bleeding from scrubbing the floor; the old scabs reopened, letting her crimson blood color the water and pool onto the floor. Sighing deeply, she used the palms of her bruised hands to push herself up, though her aching legs could hardly bear the strain once more. Lifting the bucket, she hauled it back to the end of the hall, to the drain beneath the pump, and tipped it over. The murky water splashed up on the hem of her dress and onto her bare feet. The cold sent a chill racking through her pale frame. Chalandra placed the bucket upside-down, with the rag next to it. Looking around carefully, she found the halls to be empty. Slowly, as though it was a snake, she placed her hand on the handle of the water pump. Pulling it up, she let the cool, clear water spray out onto her bleeding hands. For just a moment, she dared to close her eyes and let the freezing water wash over her stinging hands. While it stung, it brought relief from the dirt which had made its way into her wounds. Quickly glancing around, she found the hallway empty, so cupped her hands under it and drew in a deep, long drink.  
The previously unpleasant cold of the water now became sweeter than sugar as it rushed down her throat. How long since she had dared? Weeks probably. Last time, Greneth had caught her. Was it not worth it though, for a delicacy so many others take for granted? After pulling the handle yet again, she heard the heavy footsteps behind her. Jumping back, she removed her hands from the pump and quickly wiped off her face.  
"What are you doing?" came Greneth’s voice from behind her, his face illuminated by the candle he held.  
Hanging her head, she drew in a long breath of the heavy, musky air, her nose numb to the smell of rot.  
"Are you stealing from me again?" he snarled.  
Grabbing her chin, he forced her to look at him with his iron grasp, his perfectly manicured fingernails digging into her skin.  
"You are," he hissed, watching the droplets of water beading off her face.  
Pulling away from his hand, she glared at him, daring to meet his eyes.  
"It is not stealing," she shot back.  
"Now you talk back to me?" he snapped, breathless with rage.  
"I needed a drink, that is all," she snapped, though her voice began to soften due to fear of the punishment she knew was unavoidable.  
"You have a right to nothing! Do you hear me! Nothing! I own you, I own everything around you! What I permit you to have is all you are entitled to, nothing more!" he shouted.  
He threw her to the ground and kicked her in the side as he yelled down at her. From his back pocket, he took the whip. Raising it above his head slowly, tauntingly, he cracked it down upon her quickly, relishing in the snapping sound as it made contact with her back. So well acquainted with the pain, Chalandra barely flinched as the first blow fell. Greneth prepared to strike her again, the beginnings of a cruel, twisted smile twitching on his lips. Snapping the whip down, Greneth watched as it inflicted tore through her clothing and flesh alike, leaving raw wounds on her bare skin. Chalandra whimpered, huddled on the floor. A third lash fell, then a fourth, and a fifth. Her whole being trembled with pain, though she refused to satisfy him with pleas for mercy. Greneth was in a rage, hell bent on beating the girl to nothing if only to calm himself. He cackled as the whip scourged large patches of raw skin on the girl's back, and blood trickled to the stone floor. The scrapes turned to welts, then to gashes as he beat her more, his whole frame swaying as he brought the whip down with all his might again and again. The lashes slowed as Greneth tired, and stopped altogether after what seemed an hour. No matter how accustomed she became to the beatings, the lashes still burned like red flame on her flesh. By the time he was done, Chalandra was in indescribable pain, the familiar taste of blood in her mouth.  
Then, without thought or care, Greneth left her, leaving her to think about her “horrible crimes and grievances against him.”  
As he left, he tauntingly instructed her: "Don't forget to clean the blood off the floor."  
She was in too much pain to hear him, the sound of the whip meeting her flesh resonating in her mind. Pushing herself up against the stone floor, she glanced back at her dress. Once again, it was torn up. For some reason this thought comforted her-sitting alone mending her dress. It was one aspect of her life that she could control, whether her clothes were mended. But she doubted she would have time that day, as she would be moving too slowly from her beatings.  
After agonizing moments vainly attempting to regain her strength, she began to wipe her blood from the floor. That was one of the worst punishments-to sit alone and clean the floor with a rag drenched in her own blood. So long she had been alone, forgotten, and hated, that she could no longer imagine a life of fulfillment. One in which she could be happy. Where she could had a sense of safety and love. Instead, she lived moment to moment, fighting to avoid another beating. Death? That was not what she feared. For seventeen hundred years she had lived under his reign of terror. Had he been a mere man, she would have found her freedom years ago in his passing. Yet he was not. He was no Dendä, like herself, but he was a mutant half-blood. The unnatural mixture of the races, of men and Dendä. Such beings were given immortal life, same as the Dendä, but without any of their other gifts. So, he would not kill her, he would only force her to endure her miserable life.  
So, she was doomed to sop up her own blood like a mere puddle of water spilled on accident, when it was anything but. Once she finished wiping up the sticky, crimson liquid, her day's toils were completed at last, and Chalandra was escorted back to her cell by Greneth, who collected her with his usual crooked smile, and took her harshly by the arm. Once he led her back to her cell, he remembered her torn dress. Sneering coldly, he left and returned a moment later with a needle and thread, acting as if the damaged dress were her fault. He shackled her ankle to the floor, then departed. Chalandra had no other clothing and was forced to shiver miserably through the task of mending her dress nearly naked, shaking so violently she could hardly hold the needle steady as she stitched up the largest of the rips. So many times had it been repaired that even if she mended it carefully, there would be little hope for it. In her tired, wounded state, the job took her nearly twice the time it should have, and was half as well done. When she was finished, she put it back on and set them aside, just outside the bars of her cage, for him to collect later. Yet, to her surprise, he never returned to take it from her. Every time, without fail, he had returned shortly to take back what was his. But today, he did not come back. Instead of trying to think of an answer, she propped herself up in the corner, trying to shut out the pain and force herself to sleep, though there would be no peace for fear of the shadow which haunted her dreams.  
As far back as Chalandra could remember, she had no time of her own. When she was but a small child, she was brutally torn away from her family by men the very men her parents had fought to protect. They had killed her mother, having slashed her mother’s throat before her eyes. Her father, he had been killed years past. She alone they had taken, for they believed she might be worth something as a slave, for, though slavery was illegal throughout the Dendä kingdoms, it was not regulated enough for them to be caught. All she could ever recall, save the years she was held in darkness simply to raise her to a more profitable age, was that her life was not her own. Every second of each passing day was devoted to doing the work of others. Her time, her life, was Greneth's. She did not belong to herself, she never had. Very few Dendä were accustomed to serving another, but had grown used to being their own master, and living for their own benefit, not the good of others. But she truly had no other purpose than to serve. She was an owned woman, mere property Not that she cared to be thrown out, for she feared the death he would give her. Yet, at the same time death fascinated her, the very idea of being free of ownership almost intoxicated her after so many years of bondage. But the death he would give her would not be honorable, such as a warrior’s death would be, or even humane. It would be torturous, brutally slow, and even the lowliest scum would be deemed by the peacekeepers-the judges of the land-to be deserving of a better death.  
The next morning, by the time Greneth came to get her, Chalandra was shocked to find that it was rather late in the morning. Though she lived away from the light of day, she had maintained an acute sense of time. It had been near centuries since he had let her sleep in past four in the morning, and if she was allowed an extra hour, it was always because he forgot to wake her. The sun had presumably risen, but he had never bothered to wake her. Instead of rising to her feet in a frenzy, she chose to take advantage of the peace and lay still. Only several minutes after he collected her did she get an answer as to why she had not been woken.  
Greneth entered her cell and unshackled her, allowing her to leave the small cell she called home without a word to her. He led her up the stairs to his main quarters, and a weight settled in her stomach; she hadn’t been in this part of his home in years. Though he led her into no room, she could not take her eyes away from the glass window. Though it overlooked his garden, which was in disarray and disrepair, she wanted nothing more than to step outside of the musky, rotting house and breath in the fresh air. For what reason she did not know, he had drawn back the red curtains, perhaps to taunt her with the idea of freedom, but keep it just out of reach. Had he not been looming over her shoulder as they stood the wood-paneled hallway, she would have broken that window to escape this place.  
Dread filled her as she began wondering what new, torturous task he had planned. But then she saw her. Instantly, weight was replaced by a hollow emptiness. Greneth, a wide, devious grin stretched across his face, rejoined his new companion. She was a meek, terrified looking creature, shackles hanging from her wrists and ankles. Her red hair was cut short, not quite brushing her shoulders. The girl's pale skin glowed like cream through the dirt that covered her body. Her eyes were bright blue and searched the room with frantic innocence, looking pleadingly for some kind of explanation. She had been that girl once. Confused, unsure. That was how he did it. He manipulated her into trusting him, thinking he was there to help her. And she had believed him. What more could she do? She had been alone and scared, and Greneth came, promising her safety with a place to live. Now this girl, like she, had, followed Greneth without question, knowing there was nothing else to be done.  
Though it was unspoken, Chalandra knew exactly why the girl was there. She would be his new slave, one that he hoped would be more obedient and willing than his former. Chalandra’s fate would now be death, slow, painful, welcomed death. Her heart thudded hard in her chest, and the hollow emptiness in her stomach gave a sick twist. Yet it was not for her own sake that her heart pounded. For so long she had begged for death to take her, to take her away from the land of misery and cruelty, for she no longer cared. A strange sense of indifference settled over her, even though she knew her death would hold no trace of humanity. She knew the fate of the short-haired woman before her, begging her for aid as her blue eyes landed on her. In that moment, as the terrified creature of a girl passed, Chalandra made the choice that would forever change her life. She had only two options, to do nothing and finally be allowed to be at peace, or to help the fellow sufferer passing by her escape the same life she had so long been subject to.  
Before she could slink into the shadows of her never-ending tasks, Greneth grabbed her upper arm saying: “What do you think of my new prize, Mayla? Is she not beautiful?"  
At his words, the woman lifted her chin and looked to her new taskmaster with innocent eyes. Chalandra bit her tongue to prevent her from answering him.  
"She holds far more potential than you ever did. If she does not make the same mistake as you did, she will be elevated to a position far above anything you could have ever dreamed," said Greneth.  
"Have you told her what that mistake was?" Chalandra shot in reply, challenging him with her green eyes.  
Her eyes locked onto his gaze boldly, far past caring for the consequences. He turned away, seeing the new fire that flashed in her once defeated eyes. In anger, he reached out and slapped her across the face. Chalandra winced in pain and turned away, closing her eyes and bowing her head a little lower.  
“In time, in time," he chuckled.  
Noticing that his new pet looked at him with terror and confusion, he placed a hand on her shoulder.  
"Do not fear, I only do that to those who defy me."  
"Then I am not allowed to do anything against your will?" the pitiful creature asked, as though she was suddenly realizing what the life of a slave entailed.  
"Of course you can. You simply cannot become like this one,” he assured her, gesturing to Chalandra.  
“Get to work, your days are numbered now!" He commanded, attempting to send away his used up, now worthless slave.  
"What do you mean?" Mayla asked with worry.  
"Oh, she is merely dying of illness. I have done all I can, but it is her time," Greneth lied with a hint of mockery in his voice.  
"Then why do you make her work?" questioned Mayla.  
"I do not, I simply call it work. She has been given the day off since she was diagnosed,” said Greneth, who turned to Chalandra waved his hand at her, “Go on then, have a good day while you still can.”  
Shaking her head, Chalandra turned away and slipped back down the stairs, hoping to slink away to scrub the hallways without further conflict. Clearly, this creature did not know anything of the Dendä, for the idea she was dying of illness was beyond outrageous. Her body pulsed with anger, her blood turned to fire. She had no choice now. She would never allow him to bring this life upon another innocent. She knew what had to be done to save that hapless girl from him, and from the fate she had so long endured.  
As usual, no one came to look for her. Greneth assumed she had gone off to do her work in the hallway. Instead, she now back slipped upstairs. Quickly, so not to be seen, but quietly, so not to be noticed, she escaped to Greneth's quarters. As she went, she passed the main dining room, but refused to halt for she heard chatter between Greneth and his new slave. As she entered his chambers, her body shivered. She had not returned to this terrible place since the day it had all began. For a fleeting moment, she froze at the sight of his painstakingly organized room. Though he was not a terribly rich man, his chambers were as luxurious as he could afford. The small bed set along the back of the room, to the left of his closet, was piled high with pillows and blankets of rich colors, though none of them seemed to match, as it was a random array of whatever caught his eye at the market. Just to the right of the doorway was his table, at which he took all his meals. To the left of the bed was his vanity, at which he spent hours every day, keeping himself perfectly manicured in a vain attempt to mask the despicable man he was. Unlike in the basement where she dwelled, he always had candles lit and hung in the sconces which were affixed to the wall throughout the room.  
Slowly, as though haunted by her own ghost, she crept across the room to the dressing table, removing something then slipping into his closet. There, she buried herself in the depths of his clothes, which smelled of roasted meat and boiled vegetables, and crouched in wait for him.  
That night, Greneth had taken his new prize into his quarters. Their voices could be heard in the closet, even with the door closed. They conversed about various things such as the unrightful rule of the Dendä and how he had acquired certain objects which were in the room, but with an increasing slur as they grew drunk on ale. She was hoping that the girl would not be with him and come to his quarters, but she had no such luck. Still, he had not gone looking for her, as he was too drunk to remember.  
From the crack under the door, she saw the room had grown dark. The night was still, and it had been some time since she heard their voices. Slowly, she emerged from the closet, as quiet and fearful as a doe. The girl and Greneth sat at the table, though they had both dozed off to sleep. Gripping the razor she had snagged from his dressing table, Chalandra neared the man. Maneuvering the razor to his neck, she prepared to slaughter him. As her heart pounded, she began to press it into his neck. She knew this was not the kind of person she was. This would change her life forever. It would change her forever. If found, she would be killed for her crimes. Once again, she glanced to the girl. So young, so innocent. That was her once. The only way to save her from eternal torment was to kill this man. If the girl escaped, he would get another, and another. He would never stop, not until he had what he wanted.  
Drawing in a deep breath, she dragged the razor across his throat, pressing firmly into his skin. The man let out a wheezing cry as the life drained from his body. Blood spilled to the floor and covered her hands, staining them red. Chalandra felt a sharp pang of guilt as Greneth's body fell forward again and hit its head on the table, making a loud thump. The sound woke Mayla, causing her to jolt awake in terror. In seconds, she evaluated the bloody scene and realized her new master had just been slain.  
"What have you done?" she cried, jumping up from her seat, her chair tumbling to the ground behind her.  
Dropping the bloodied razor, it fell to the floor with a clatter, Chalandra looked her in the eye.  
"Saved you," she told her calmly, meekly.  
"Saved me? Saved me! You try to save me from the man who did save me!" she exclaimed, anger rising in her voice.  
"He bought you as a slave. You were his property, no matter what he told you. Besides, you know nothing of his reign of terror," she returned.  
"What? You blame him because you are dying?" said the girl.  
"Dying? I am dying of nothing but by his hand. He intended to kill me," Chalandra shot back.  
"I assure you that is a lie!"  
"I have been under his control for over seventeen hundred years. You have known him two days," she refuted.  
"Then why would he kill you now?" she challenged, her voice bearing a sort of whine.  
"Because of you," Chalandra answered.  
"What? I don’t understand. He meant me no harm. He said he was going to free me and make me his wife.”  
"You believed him? You honestly thought a man who bought you at a slave auction would be a good husband and make good on his word?"  
"Yes," she answered, her confidence was unswaying.  
Chalandra scoffed and looked away from the woman with disgust.  
“He promised me too. Now look at what I have become. I have not seen the light of day for sixteen hundred years and the feeling of enough is but a dream. Every day, I have been beaten, whether with whips or by his hand. Do you think he intended to keep his promises to you?”  
"Yes," Mayla was defiant, unwilling to listen to reason.  
"Why would you be any different?" Chalandra cried, stepping so she was mere inches away from her face.  
"Because he liked me," Mayla shot back.  
"You think he was going to fall in love with you, and treat you like a proper wife?”  
"Yes.”  
“Do you know why he brought me to you? To show me he was going to have his way this time. Because I rejected him once I saw the vile man he was.”  
"I do not care what he has done to you, your crimes are inexcusable. I am riding to the palace guards in the morning," the girl snapped.  
The girl took only a step forward before Chalandra grabbed her arm. She tried to cry out, but Chalandra clapped a hand over her mouth in anger. Dragging her back, she found some rope from Greneth's closet and bound her tightly, using a strip of cloth for a gag.  
"You are free now. Remember that it was because of me," she snapped, looking the girl in the eye one last time before closing the closet door on her with disgust.  
At least she would have a start before she could free herself and alert the guards. With a sense of urgency like never before, she dashed down the hallway as fast as she could. Although she felt great terror and remorse for her actions, she also felt wonderful. She was free. If she only lived for a moment more, it was worth it. She could die happy, knowing the taste of freedom and the wonder of being alive. Her hands shook, overcome by the surge of adrenaline that forced her to carry on, to get away from this miserable place. At the end of the hallway, just to the right of the grand, oaken door from which she had entered this place and would now depart, she threw open the cabinet. Inside, Greneth had always kept a variety of spare clothing, most of which he had purchased years ago when he had brought her to this place, with the hopes of giving it to her when she agreed to marry him. Quick as possible, she rummaged through the closet until she found a dress. It was rather new, barely used cream dress. On the spot, she tore her blood-soaked, worthless brown ban off and cast it aside, instantly exchanging it for the new one. The dress was cream, made of a sort of cotton. The skirt came to her ankles and the sleeves came to her elbows. It was light and functional, exactly what she needed Upon finding a long chestnut cloak in the same manner, she picked it up and wrapped it around her shoulders. Though she was unable to find shoes, she left anyways, knowing the longer she stayed, the more risk she would be found out.  
Never before had she felt this way. This nauseating combination of joy and sorrow. She knew she would never escape the regret of her actions, the ghosts of her past would haunt her forever. If she was captured, she would be killed. This thought compelled her every step. A shadow of doubt crossed her mind as she turned to the door. Greneth had long ago soiled her name, if there were any left who knew it. No matter where she fled to, her past would catch up with her eventually, if the girl did not hold her tongue. She would be killed by being beaten to death, as those who slaughter the innocents were. No matter how hard she may try to prove her innocence, how she had killed a man in defense of the innocents, it would be impossible without the word of the one she protected. Already, she knew that woman would do nothing in her defense, as she obviously loathed Chalandra for reasons beyond her understanding. Yet that did not matter now. Not in this moment. Now, she was free.  
Turning to the door, she lay her hands against the wooden board, lain between the doors, which functioned as a lock. Lifting it up, she threw it to the side. Smiling a little to herself, she pressed her hands to the sanded oak wood and lay her weight against it. The doors creaked open, giving way to the light of the rising sun on the horizon.


	3. The Flame Which Survived

It did not matter that she had nothing but the clothes on her back, Chalandra was free. Free to journey wherever she wished without worry of cruel beatings or tyrannical masters. For centuries she had clung to a pinprick of hope in the dark of her cell, never daring to let it become anything more than an unattainable spark of light in the distance. Though that spark had been extinguished through merciless beatings long ago, she began to feel it starting to rekindle. Since the day, centuries ago, when she started her life as a servant, not even a glimmer of hope had reached her in the depths of her captivity. Just forty-four when she was taken, she had been young, a mere child. Naive and innocent, she could have easily been mistaken for a human child of no more than ten. She was ripped from her family and shoved in some godforsaken hole for innumerable years before being carted off to Greneth for a small fortune. But that was behind her now. How long had she been subject to those horrors though? She had been born in the year two thousand, four hundred, and eight during the reign of Alya, who, to her knowledge was still on the throne. By her count she had been imprisoned for over seventeen hundred years, so she assumed Alya still ruled.  
Chalandra would have been content to stay forever at the threshold, but she knew she could not linger outside for even a moment longer if she wanted to avoid being recaptured and dragged away to her rightful punishment in death. She had no doubt Mayla, angry Chalandra had prevented her from marrying Greneth and in turn receiving a life of moderate comfort, would rent a horse as soon as she escaped, and ride to the Dendä palace to turn in her rescuer as a murderer. Even if she did not venture far from her late master’s home, at least she would be safer than she was here. With great strength of will Chalandra forced herself to depart. She was leaving the roof that had sheltered her almost her entire life. But it was no home. As she dashed across the gravel towards the hedge fence that marked the boundary of Greneth’s land, she briefly glanced around her surroundings. The last time she had seen the ornately twisted black metal of the gate had been the day she had been dragged here, half dead. She passed through it, a chilling realization hitting her. Behind her, hidden beneath dreary brick and stone, was all that she had even known, save the snippets of her childhood that she could recall. Despite the torment of her life here, she was leaving, it still was what she knew, and Dendä hate the unknown almost as much as the race of men do.  
As her bare feet fell on the pebble stones leading away from her master’s home, Chalandra barely noticed the painful sensation of the jagged rocks beneath her. Step after step, she started to run, leaving all that was known behind her, focusing on each step as it came. Later, she would marvel in the sunlight, and the wind, and the rain, and the snow, and the stars. But now, now she could only leave that life behind her, one step at a time.  
Chalandra slowed her pace for a moment, drawing in a deep breath and casting a final glance behind her. The iron gate stood in front of the stone mansion, the dusky sunlight just peeking over the treetops as the sun began to rise, casting an eerie haze over the whole scene. She shut her eyes against the morning sunlight, turning back to the path. As she continued onward, the weed-infested path of pebbles almost immediately turned to dirt, but Chalandra's tough feet hardly noticed the change that would be welcome to most travelers. It was only several minutes before she reached a fork in the road. On her right was a lush green forest, heavy with the promise of shade and a cool stream. On her left was an ordinary path of dust, leading to the world of men, the closest village being only several hours on foot. Her heart longed for the respite she knew the forest would provide, and she turned towards the green horizon, before her mind took control. There could be predators in the forest, and she knew she would become lost, and likely never see the sunlight again. So, she turned to the dusty path. To the world of men. There, she could find work. Create a new life for herself.  
Although she did not know this, the path that she took was destined to alter not only her own destiny, but that of many other people. This moment, the decision that to most was a simple choice of right or left was in fact one of the few moments like it in history, with which one changes the course of the future. The strangest part was that no one would ever know such a time had been reached, for it was often simply the making of a normal, rational decision. She did not even know what lay ahead on the path before her, aside from the town. She was blissfully oblivious to all that would come of that decision. Nonetheless, this was the moment that would carve the path of history for not only herself, but the race of Dendä and of men. What made her go right or left may have been pure instinct, but perhaps fate called her down one path. Or rather the other pushed her away. Whatever the circumstances, the simple act of choosing a direction shaped the course of history for all.  
And so, she turned left. She did not know exactly where she was going, but simply looked for the road more travelled. The one that was more likely to lead her away from Greneth and to a place in which she could find work. The worn-out ruts told her carts passed this way often, and so she stuck to the side of the road, as to stay out of the way. It was a habit of sorts. For so many centuries she had been beaten and scorned for being in the way, that she would have to relearn how to exist as more than an easy target to take out frustrations. Chalandra sighed, wishing she could eat. But alas, she would not take a scrap she had not earned, so food was a distant dream, on hold for when she found work. She thought fondly of having food, a life. Not a life like any other man or Dendä for fear she would draw attention to her crimes, but a life in the shadows, yet a free life nonetheless.  
Picking up the hem of her skirt, she began to run once more. Not away from the guards who would be sent from the Dendä kingdoms after her, which, while known to be ineffective when searching for runaways in the lands of men, would search in the area immediately surrounding the meager estate. Rather, she ran away from her own mind. All the pain, the fear, the darkness. The voice of Greneth rung in her head as real as if he was whispering in her ear again, his greasy hair falling against her cheek, his jagged teeth almost grazing her ear. You’ll never be anything but a dirty servant girl. You think you deserve to be free? Deserve to live? No. You deserve the worst kind of punishment I can offer. You’ll never be good for anything. She could still hear his poisonous hiss, feeding her lies to see her fall even further into self-loathing. Such life that she had always known. As the wind rushed about her, she breathed deeply, reminding herself that Greneth could hurt her no longer, and letting it take with it her past, her pain, her fear. She was not running away anymore, she was running towards freedom.  
Though the road was dusty, she forced her body to continue. So long as she followed the road, carving its way between wheat fields, then through the forest, she would find what she searched for. She longed for rest, food, and water. Yet she denied herself these things for fear Mayla had freed herself sooner than she anticipated. No doubt, she was on her way to the Dendä palace now, turning in the woman who had given her true freedom. Yet, for now, she refused to halt and dwell on the idea. If she made it to a village of men, she would likely not be found. She would be concealed in their midst. After all, they would not even have a name for her, only a vague description to work with, for they would not trust a woman born of men to accompany them in searching for the fugitive.  
Sometime after midday, the road curved sharply to the east. Finally, she let herself slow to walk, for she had pressed herself on for hours. Before her was a great river which forced its way between the lush grassy banks that it fed. Panting, she strayed from the path, only desiring to clean herself up and take a long drink. Kneeling down on the soft, moist banks, she cupped her hands and carefully ladled water to her mouth. Again and again, she sucked in the cold water. For the first time since she was a child, she drank until she was satisfied. Then, she rolled up the sleeves of her dress and splashed the soothing water up on her bruised arms. The dirt melted away, revealing the creamy skin beneath. Finally, she scrubbed her face and neck, forcing the dried blood and dirt from her skin. Again, she rose to her aching feet and dried her face on the edge of her cloak. Looking to the east once more, she returned to the path and made herself carry on.  
When she first saw the village in the midafternoon, the sight nearly brought tears to her eyes. That was to be her new home. This town promised a normal life, one without joy, but also without a master. She could have a job, make a living, eat, drink, sleep, and spend her life in a way she could have never before dreamed possible. Though she did not have any money yet, she could sleep on the streets until she made a little, then sleep in an inn. Once she had raised enough, she could perhaps buy herself a small house.  
The town was small, and somewhat worn, but it was perfect. No one would suspect her of being a Dendä, as she was too weak to even use her own power. The Dendä, unlike any other kind of creature on earth, were blessed with a great and powerful gift. Along with their inherit supremacy in wisdom, immortality until they are physically killed, beauty, and grace, they held a very particular gift. They were able to draw power from the elements, and, to some extent, control it. Each Dendä, depending on their lineage, was able to connect with a certain element. The highest of the elements, having been determined by a long and terrible civil war, is Water, followed by Air, Earth, and lastly, Fire. Every kingdom knows who they serve, and who is above them. Alya was the Water king, and therefore high king of the Dendä and the world of men. Yet it had not always been so.  
In their early days, the Dendä had no designated leaders, only temporary leaders chosen by the people based on their actions rather than their lineage. It was this system that prevented any one leader from being too powerful, thereby keeping the others in check. If a leader wronged their community, they were challenged and taken from authority. But when the plague of pride began creeping into their minds, there were some Dendä who rose to and stayed in authority with their haughty claims of permanent leadership. It began when one war leader, Trevel, led his men to a great victory, causing him to believe he should be a leader until his death. Others soon followed his example, wanting to remain in power longer than a few years.  
Soon, a dangerous system began to develop in the Dendä world. One Dendä would rule his entire life, up until the day he died. When he was killed, his firstborn son took over in his place. Thousands of years would pass before a new ruler stepped in, especially in times of peace. During periods of prolonged peace, old rulers stayed in authority for far too long. With their long reign came the ability for the rulers to gain far too much power. They were able to make radical changes resulting in gaining more power for themselves. These changes were not in the best interest of the people, and often hurt them, but the leaders made them without restraint, and without paying any mind to the repercussions of their actions. As the people began to lose their power to remove a leader from his position, so too diminished their ability to have a choice in their leadership. Laws were made without their approval and soon all power slipped from their grasp and fell into the clutches of whomever ruled.  
As democracy gave way to monarchy, civil war broke out. The Dendä kings felt they needed to be considered the highest power, not simply head of their element. For eight hundred years they fought a bloody battle, each power trying to gain status over the others. They all but wiped out their own people, the children aging too slowly to keep up with the demand for soldiers. Even the peaceful Earth Dendä joined the fight. In the end, the millions upon millions of deaths achieved nothing, and the Dendä numbers became a mere fraction of what they once were. Water emerged supreme, Air followed second, Earth having taken third, and Fire the last, doomed to forever serve the other kingdoms.  
Following the civil war, the elements began to see those beneath them as inferior and tried to keep themselves pure from the lower kingdoms. Prior to the war, marriage between the elements was not uncommon. When such a marriage did occur, and a child was born to parents of differing elements, the parents’ bloodlines combined to create unique powers, such as Lightning and Frost. However, when the strict segregation began, these subclasses mysteriously disappeared. What fate befell the unfortunate victims of the war was never known, but it was long suspected their kingdoms, which no longer desired cross-bred mutants, had hunted down and slaughtered them.  
In the post-war world, kings went to great lengths to see their kingdom was kept as pure as possible, especially their own lineage. Even servants from other kingdoms were not admitted, for fear that they would try to marry into a higher element. If, by chance, a prince or princess fell in love with a Dendä from a lower kingdom, the ones they loved frequently disappeared. Most were probably threatened or convinced to leave, but at least a few fell victim to unjust and unmerciful slaughter.  
It was the Air Realm which headed this revolution. Although they fell second to the Water kingdom, the Air Dendä were heavily influential in establishing segregation between the classes. Even before civil war ripped through the lands, they had considered themselves above the other classes. Of all the kingdoms, they were by far the most selfish, stuck up, and judgmental. After the war, thanks to their unrelenting nature, they became the advisors to the Water Realm.  
Despite the unpleasantness of their advisors, the Water Realm were universally acknowledged as being fair and wise. That was the primary reason they won the war, for they were able to strategize and outwit the other kingdoms. They became even-handed, if stern, rulers. Although, to some degree, the Air Dendä were able to manipulate them, many of them were now far more discerning than their predecessors.  
Unlike the even-tempered Water Realm, the Fire Kingdom established a reputation to be vengeful and violent. While they were considered the lowest, their people made up most of the warriors. Yet, their rashness and unpredictability often made them ineffective. Usually, they were short tempered and easily blinded by their rage.  
In stark contrast to the Fire Kingdom, the Earth Dendä were the most grounded. They were easy-going, peace-loving, and rarely at odds with one another. They stubbornly protested the civil war and the persecution of the subclasses. It was only by a miracle still not fully understood that they were not the ones who ended up with the lowest status. It is believed the only reason they were put above the Fire Dendä was that the Air Realm intervened, realizing they would have been even worse as the warriors, for they rarely even argued amongst each other in their own homes, much less been able to hold their own in a battle.  
But now, the kingdoms were restless. Fearful of a moving shadow rallying men to its aid. There could be war again. Men and Dendä were on edge. They began to spurn each other at all times, for the world of men were tired of submitting to Dendä rule. For years now, all the Realms had united under the banner of the Water Realm and had been collected into the flagship of a palace the Water Dendä called home. Very few Dendä of any flag lived anywhere but in the confines of the Water Kingdoms boundaries, for peace was crumbling and darkness was falling.  
Yet it did not matter. Chalandra, long ago, had lost the ability to use her power. It had been in the very early days of her enslavement when she had fallen into disgrace. The disgraced Dendä, one thing her people hated even more than their fellow classes. They were the outcasts, the criminals, those who had committed some horrible act and had later found themselves punished by becoming no greater than the groveling half-bloods, who were gifted with long life, but scorned for being powerless and the product of an impure union. For them, there was always a reason behind their powerlessness, a murder, an act of treason. Kings could not control it, no Dendä could explain it, yet so it was. Those hapless, fallen creatures were considered nothing but trouble and ruin, so they were exiled until the end of their days.  
Power or not, Dendä rarely sent their women into the world unprotected, but rather made sure they had the careful watch of another lest a man should turn his gaze toward her. Dendä were often rich, sometimes haughty people, but she was neither. She was a woman who had no respect for herself left, and not a coin, no one would ever suspect that she was one of their “enemies.”

Yet as Chalandra approached the town, the sight of smoke emerging from weathered red brick chimneys bringing her a sense of calm, she wondered if she would even be able to find work. She was not the most skilled woman, nor was she the smartest, very few would want to hire her. It would be a miracle to find work. She would take any work she could find, anything at all. Even the most meager wages and the lowliest employment would be better than her past life, so she would be grateful for it. If she were blessed, she may be able to find some sort of job, but she knew that was not her fate. She was a cursed woman all the days of her life. No one loved her; no one cared about her. She was simply there; falling apart while everyone else carried on.  
The town was very small, built in a small valley with a stream running along the outskirts, hills all around. From what Chalandra could tell, most of the buildings were rather worn, as a good many of them had noticeable wooden repairs over the old wood frame. Furthermore, many of them were left to disrepair or with flaking wood from the long, cold winters seen during the lifetime of the building. But this was home now. Several of the buildings were built close to the river, but none were on the banks. The river seemed to be calm of flow, but it was deceiving. The water flowed swiftly beneath the glass surface and it was deep. Many a man had drowned while working in that river, yet many continued to toil in it, using the rapid current to ferry logs from the depths of the forest which had taken root upstream of the town. Behind the town lay a great, vast forest. A small dirt path led into the thick trees, but it was seldom travelled for the dangers that lay beyond the dark veil of the forest. To the right of the village were plains that stretched on for miles. The villagers used the land for farmland, and grazing grounds for their livestock. Never had she seen a town so diverse, with so many jobs on such a small amount of land. It was a surprise that the village was not teeming with life.  
As she entered the village, she realized it was rather well populated. For a brief moment, the thought of interacting with many people caused her hesitation. However, the more people, the harder it would be for her to be identified. People strolled about through the streets, carrying goods or skeptically inspecting the goods others were selling. She kept her head down for fear she might attract attention. Her fear drove her more strongly than any kind of reality may have. For so long, so many years, she had been forced to live in fear, but no more. She still found it hard to believe that she was truly free, after so many years of captivity. Yet the nagging in her heart for her crimes, the remorse and regret, moved her more strongly than any joy she could have felt. She was free, but by a path she had chosen wrongly to take.  
Spotting a sign advertising for an Inn, she turned towards the door it pointed to. She would not search for charity, for charity was too good for her now. But, perhaps, they might know of where work could be found. Cautiously, after pausing at the threshold, she entered the building, finding a pleasant, warm room inside. As soon as she walked in, she noticed the whole place smelled of oatmeal, reminding her of her own hunger. A tall man, with bushy grey eyebrows, thinning grey hair, and a stout frame from years of eating well, stood behind a counter.  
"Good morning to you. How might I be of service?" he asked.  
"I was wondering about a place to stay," she said nervously, her voice shaking as much as her trembling hands.  
The man smiled placidly, noticing her shivering, but failed to identify the cause of her trembling.  
"Ah, you'll get used to the weather while you're here. It is cold at first. As for board, you have certainly come to the right place. We have rooms available."  
She nodded quickly, wrapping her cloak around herself as she noticed how cold she really was, then asked: "How much is it to stay overnight?"  
"Fifteen, and that includes food. A month's board is one fifty, if you're thinking of staying. We have the best rates in town, mind you," he offered, smiling all the while.  
"I do intend to stay around here, for the time being, at least," she answered, fidgeting as she fought to calm her nerves.  
Though she was originally afraid to talk with a person as her equal, she found the necessary confidence much more easily than she expected. Unlike with Greneth, she did not feel the urge to challenge him. He was kind, and that put her at ease. That in itself was far more than she deserved. Still, she was fearful she would be caught. That fear nearly paralyzed her, but she forced herself to carry on.  
"Do you want a room or not?" he queried, crossing his arms as he grew impatient.  
"I am afraid I do not have any money. Do you know anywhere where I might find work?" she questioned, hopeful.  
A grey-haired woman wearing a ragged blue, green, and red dress with a warm smile walked up behind the man.  
"Where you planning on staying 'til you got the money? Ya can't be thinking a' sleeping on the streets, can ya?" she asked, gripping a tray of oatmeal she was previously taking to guests.  
"I do not know."  
"Ya can't do that 'round here. All sorts of folks out there at night, not all of 'um nice," the woman warned.  
"Thank you, but I will be alright. I always have been."  
"We need a barmaid, if you're interested. You could stay here if ya were working," she offered, her eyes looking up from over her glasses.  
"I cannot take that offer but thank you." Chalandra refused.  
She desperately needed work, but she could not take advantage of these people. She was undeserving of their kindness, and instantly decided to leave their warmth to someone more worthy.  
"Farmer Clount needs some help, so I've heard. Work is scarce in these parts, not easy to eat these days. The farmer is a good man, he'll give work to a young lady like yourself. Now don't you go thinking we're gonna let you sleep on the streets, you come ‘round if you need a place to stay. We can let ya stay for a few nights till ya got the money," her husband joined in, making a second offer.  
Nodding slightly, the tiniest of smiles broke her icy, stone gaze. Without another word, she turned back to the door without another word, pulling her cloak up to hide her bruised cheek. As she descended the frosted steps, she felt a tug at her heart. They were willing to help her, but she could not take their offer. Not after what she had done. She did not deserve to be treated with kindness. When she had the money, she would return and pay for a room, but not yet. She could manage in the streets for a few nights, despite the cold and inherit danger.  
Out in the streets once more, she continued her journey down the road. She was nearly a quarter of the way through town when she saw an alleyway, presumably leading to the farmlands. Once in the alley, she realized how cold the day was, especially in the shade. The buildings rose up on either side, as most had two levels. Once she was outside of the alley, she found the farmlands lay directly ahead. A large field stood in front of her, the stalks of golden wheat standing as tall as she.  
To her left was a pathway, leading to a large farmhouse. A sign nailed above the door read “Clount Farm.” Turning to the house, she walked up the path at a brisk pace. Once again summoning her courage, she knocked on the door. A moment later there were footsteps and the door opened. In front of her stood a heavy man in his early thirties with greasy brown hair. He stood slouched against the doorframe.  
"Yeah, what you need?" he asked in an impatient tone.  
"I am looking for Farmer Clount. Is he around?"  
"My father's out in the fields. Can I help you with anything?" he asked, straightening up once he got a good look at her face.  
"I am seeking work, is there anything I might do for money around here?"  
"We need someone to sell the goods. It don't pay much, but it is something. You just have to take the products into town each day and sit at the stand.”  
"I will do it," she agreed, rather eagerly.  
She was far more willing to work for a man who evidently only offered her the position because he took a liking to her appearance. Besides, after so many years in solitude, she was eager to force herself to learn how to properly interact with others.  
"You don't care about the money?" he asked, surprised.  
"It will be more than I have now."  
"My father pays one seventy-five a month, times are tight. You have Saturdays off, like most of the town. It's easy work, though just selling eggs, wool, crops, that sorta thing.”  
"That is more than enough, thank you," she replied, her tone portraying her gratitude.  
"Sure. Be here at sunrise next morn' so you can take the cart into town. What's your name then?”  
"Chalandra, and thank you," she answered offering a small smile.  
For a moment, she considered giving a false name, yet hers was passable as that of a man’s and Mayla had no name to tell the guards if she set them on her trail. If only to ease her conscious a little, she opted to tell the truth, just this once. Besides, this was a town within the lands under Dendä rule. Most likely, they would not object to a Dendä in their midst, if ever she was found out.  
"You're welcome. Come early tomorrow, at dawn," he instructed.  
She nodded before turning away from the man, grateful to have found work. By the time she returned to the main part of the town, the sun was setting. Her body was tired from the long day she had. Out of fear and shame, she lay down a way from the kindly innkeeper, not wanting him to find her. Either side of the street had a wooden walkway, then between the two was a wide dirt path, large enough for two carriages to pass with room to spare. Chalandra lay on the dirt road, against the lip of the wooden path.  
The streets were cold, and the night was long. Chalandra had taken off her cloak and used it as a blanket, but the thin fabric did little against the biting teeth of the cold. She lay with her side against the dirt, soiling her white dress. All through the night she shivered, longing for some warmth. No one approached her, or even took notice of her, as no one even was daring enough to wander the streets at such an hour. Her stomach gnawed at her in hunger and her throat burned from the thirst she was so accustomed to.

When finally the morning light shone over the rooftops, she immediately rose from the ground. Her body did not hurt from the ground, as she was used to sleeping on stone, but never had she been so cold. Brushing ice off her dress, she pulled her thin cloak around her shoulders and turned to the farm. The morning was still brisk, not nearly as cold as the night had been. Soon the sun would warm the earth, and she would surrender herself to its goodness.  
Once she arrived at the farm, she spotted a small cart loaded with eggs and vegetables. The man she had spoken with the previous day stood in front of it.  
"Take it into town, unload the goods at your stand, and tie the horse up. She's a gentle old thing, won't give you any trouble. Near dusk, load the unsold goods and the money, then bring it back 'ere. The boys will unload it once you're here and you can be on your way. All the prices for the goods are on the table, granted you can read."  
Chalandra nodded before taking the reins from the man. She had to lead the gentle brown mare rather than ride in the cart, as it was loaded with supplies. Once in town, she searched for a market stall with the name “Clount Farm.” She finally found it on the opposite side of the street, a good way from the alley. Tying the mare by the rope she had used to led her, she turned to unload the cart.  
As she tried to lift one of the baskets, she found it too large and heavy for her to pull out of the cart. Distressed, she tried to find another way to unload it, to no avail. There was no way for her to climb into the cart, and she was not strong enough to lift it above her head. Realizing there was no way for her to get the baskets off, and too afraid to request assistance, she took a seat on the wooden walkway. With any luck, no one would purchase a whole basket, and she could simply hand the goods off of the cart.  
At the end of the day, Chalandra had sold very little of the merchandise. For a long moment, she considered sneaking one of the apples off of the cart, so to have something to eat later. With a great deal of difficulty, she decided against stealing, if only to ease her conscience. As instructed, she was back at the farm by dusk. When she handed the man her meager amount of money, avoiding his gaze in shame.  
"Is this all?" he asked, rather disgusted.  
"That was all," she answered honestly, hanging her head.  
"Ah, well, times are hard. People don't have the money to buy their food. We're lucky our crops grow at all in this cold, but they still do, just the same as always. Other farms though, they had gone under because of the bad crop weather. Be back her same time tomorrow."  
By the time she returned to the village, dark had fallen over the town. All the windows were black; the streets only illuminated by the light of the stars above. She lay in the same spot as the previous night, for she had no desire nor will to seek out another spot, nor did it matter. The night was even colder than the previous one, and she shivered all through it. As she breathed, she could easily see her breath, even in the dark of the night. During the day, she had been able to see it as well, but now it was even more noticeable.  
As she was unable to sleep, she took the time to reflect about her day. It was cold here, so cold she could hardly stand it. It was a miracle the place was not constantly covered with snow. There was not a moment in that day she was unable to see her breath, and the air was bitter with cold, even in the sunlight.  
When finally, daylight came, she slowly stood, her body refusing to move quickly due to the cold. All she wanted as to be warm again, or to have a warm coat to cover her shoulders with. The dress she had taken was beautiful, but useless at keeping her warm as it was made of thin fabric. Again, she found a layer of ice had covered her as she lay on the ground. Her only hope was that she was soon to be paid, and then she could sleep in warmth and work on a full belly.  
Little did she know, across the street, several men had gathered on their way to work. They stood together, talking for a brief moment before heading to the forest. One man watched the shivering woman as she prepared for the long, cold day ahead. Turning to the man next to him, touched his shoulder so to gain his attention.  
"What is her name, that girl, over there?"  
"I don't know, she must be new. I did see her working the stall for Clount though. He must've been smart with this one, as she's easy to look at. Might draw attention to his merchandise with just that alone."


	4. Undeserved Compassion

Once Chalandra had led the mare into town, she hung the sign on the back of the cart, assuming no one would help her that day either. To her surprise, the sound of footfalls stopped behind her.  
"Do you need some help?" a deep-voiced man asked.  
Turning around to meet the gaze of a tall, broad-shouldered man, she tried to understand what he was asking.  
"Would you like help unloading your cart?" he asked again, his voice softer then when he had first addressed her.  
"If you would not mind," she answered timidly, turning her gaze away.  
"Not at all; it would be my pleasure," he replied with a small smile.  
Stepping down from the wooden pathway, he grabbed the first basket.  
"Are you new around here?"  
"Yes, yes I am.”  
“What do you think of it then?”  
"It is cold, very cold. Most of the people have been very kind though," she answered, her voice quiet.  
"You must be lucky. Most people around here are selfish and greedy."  
As he unloaded the baskets, Chalandra studied the man. Why was he so willing to help her? No one else had assisted her, even glanced at her, but he had volunteered. He had offered to take time away from his day to help, without request from her. His hair was mostly black, with a few strands of grey mixed in; cut at his shoulders, with a slight wave to it. It appeared to be coarse, almost wiry, and he had pulled back the front to a knot in the back. His skin was much darker than she had seen around the village, only further evidence that he worked outside in the sun. His hands were rough from work, and the ease with which he unloaded the cart showed that he was quite used to lifting heavy objects high and carrying them about.  
While his voice had sounded gruff when he first got her attention, it now had a softer, gentler tone. What captured her, though, was his face. It was well weathered from the sun and hard work, with many lines carving their way across his dark skin, several extending from the corners of his eyes. Other than a small patch of hair above his lip, he was clean shaven. His eyes were gentle; a beautiful grey-blue in color. Though they seemed to have seen many sorrows, they still contained a kind spark. His clothes were rather worn, but still better suited for the cold than hers were. His boots were made of simple brown leather, very worn but still useful in keeping out the cold. His shirt was faded, woven of a coarse blue-grey fabric, with a small slit extending down the center, laced shut. Over his clothing he wore a dark brown leather coat, lined with animal fur. It fell down to below his knees, and while it had been patched many times, it seemed to keep him warm. For gloves, he wore a ratty old pair, made of some kind of knit material on the outside, with an animal fur to line the inside. They only covered his hands, not his fingers, likely to give him a better grip.  
The cart was unloaded quickly, given the man's strength. When he was done, she moved the sign back to the stall. It was only then that she realized there was no way for her to move the baskets back onto the cart, but that was a problem for later. Without her saying anything, the man seemed to sense her dilemma.  
"I can come back later to load the cart again.”  
"I cannot ask you to do that, as it is my work.”  
"You are not asking. I am offering," he corrected with a smile.  
From one of the baskets, he grabbed two apples and asked: "How much for these?"  
"Nothing, not for the help you gave."  
"No, tell me how much. I would not take food without paying in times like these."  
"One bronze," she finally replied.  
Grabbing the woven brown bag he had lay down before assisting her, he pulled out a single bronze coin. After placing the bag over his shoulder, he handed her the coin.  
"Here you are," he said softly.  
The man smiled, and though it was rather small, his eyes sparkled with a happiness all their own.  
"Thank you," she said, taking the coin.  
Before he left, he man tossed one of the apples into the air in a good-natured manner. Catching it with ease, he tossed it to Chalandra in a single motion. Surprised and caught off guard, she managed to catch it but rather clumsily.  
"May I ask your name?" the man inquired.  
"Chalandra."  
The man did offer his name, but simply gave her gentle smile.  
"I will see you later today, Chalandra," he said, turning away.  
"Wait sir, you forgot your apple," she reminded, holding it out to him.  
Gently, he pushed her hand back.  
"You need it."  
Before she had time to protest, the man disappeared, back on his way to work. Though she was thankful for the food, she felt indebted to him. He had given her help and food. What kindness had driven him to do such a thing? That was more than anyone else would have dreamed of doing, but he had done it without a second thought. Hungrily, she bit into the apple, savoring the taste. It was the first time she had tasted anything but stale bread for over a thousand years. Nothing had tasted sweeter, and certainly nothing had given her this much satisfaction. Whomever that man was, he was truly a kind man.

That night, Chalandra again lay in the street. In the dark, she reflected on her day. The man had returned to help her in the evening, as he had promised. However, he seemed tired and worn, but still assisted her without complaint. Though he said very little, he still was kind to her. When she had brought the load of unsold goods back to the farm, the man seemed more pleased than the previous day. When she handed him her earnings, he had smiled and nodded. Though the man had not given her any more food, probably because he was tired and cold, she rested without the gnawing pain of hunger. To any other person, a single apple would never have been enough, but she was used to the small limited amount of food.  
Tonight, she was able to get some manner of sleep. The following morning, the man was leaned up against her stall, waiting.  
"I was wondering when you were going to get here," he greeted, smiling at her.  
"I apologize, I am somewhat late this morning. I did not know you were coming.”  
"It is fine, and here I am."  
"Why is it you help me? Everyone else turns their head away when I ask for help, but you offered," she asked, her eyes still glancing to the ground every few seconds.  
"You need it more than others here do," he replied.  
After a brief pause, he turned to her.  
"On your stall table.”  
"What?" she asked, looked over the top of her stall.  
On the table was a slice of bread and a glass of milk laid out on a rough piece of fabric.  
"What is this?" she asked.  
"Your breakfast," he answered nonchalantly.  
"Why would you bring me this?"  
"You are too thin, it is not good to be your size in the cold. Besides, you do not have any money, and therefore no food."  
"How do you know that?" she questioned, her tone filled with embarrassment and her gaze falling to the dirt.  
"People who have money do not sleep on the street."  
"What? How did you find that out?" she inquired, hurt and somewhat embarrassed.  
"It is nothing to be ashamed of, times are hard in this town."  
"How did you know?"  
"If you had money, you would have bought yourself warmer clothes," he explained, gesturing to her ensemble.  
"But how do you know I have been sleeping on the streets?”  
"It is the street."  
"No one has cared, why do you?" she pressed, a little more firmly than would have been considered polite.  
That time, he did not reply. The baskets were soon unloaded and Chalandra moved them about the stall.  
"Thank you, for helping me, and for the breakfast," she said softly, offering him a small, sad smile.  
"It was my pleasure," he answered, turning away.  
The man had only taken two steps before he stopped and turned back to her.  
"What are you doing tomorrow?"  
"I am working." she replied.  
"No, you are not. It is the day off, Saturday."  
"It is? How do you know I am off on Saturdays?" she inquired.  
"Most of the town is, and I know Clount takes all the time off he can get. Would you go somewhere with me, though?" he requested, raising his eyebrows slightly.  
"Where?”  
"I do not know, not yet.”  
"Why would I go somewhere with a man whose name I do not know?”  
"Thane, my name is Thane," he answered.  
"Thane? Wait, are you of-”  
"Will you come?" he interrupted.  
After a slight pause, she nodded.  
"Yes, I will."  
"Good. I will see you later then," he said, turning back to the street.  
Once the man was gone, Chalandra thought about his name as she ate the food he had brought her. It was not likely a name any man would have been called, but more likely a Dendä name. He could not possibly be a Dendä though, not with his appearance and voice. The Dendä did not have any facial hair, ever. It was impossible for it to be grown, and they never aged. His face was covered in the marks of hard work and age, and some of his hair had grown in grey. He was tanned, like no Dendä ever could be, as they remained fair of skin. While most Dendä were strong, their strength rarely would show across their body, and he was obviously a strong man.  
Almost as strange as his appearance was his mannerism. Dendä tended to be proud, arrogant people. This, obviously, was a generalization, but most were haughty. He was humble, kind, and caring, contrary to those she had known. His offer to help her had been a sign of his selflessness, which again was somewhat rare among the Dendä. While they were tasked with protecting the earth, that did not mean they had to be nice in doing so. He was so different, so honest and willing to help.  
What, then, was this man? He could not be of Dendä blood, but had to either be full man, simply with a Dendä name, or a half blood. If he was Dendä, what would that mean for her? The guard could not have already found her. Besides, if they had, they would have dragged her away in chains, not helped her to earn a living. This man was not of Dendä blood, he was a human. But what would that mean for her? If he found out she was a Dendä, how would he act? He would not accept her, and the men of the town would probably try to drive her out. She would be chased to another village or killed if they knew, would she not? Men these days did not tolerate the old rule of the Dendä, or so she had heard in whispers. They wanted their own freedom to rule themselves. They wanted the earth and all that was in it, rather than have their watchers of old to protect them. They did not care about having their guidance and protection, they only wanted power. The power to have the earth to themselves and do as they choose without answering to anyone all the days of their life.  
When Thane returned that night to load the crates and baskets back onto the cart, he seemed in better spirits than the previous day. Though he was clearly tired from the day's work, he appeared to be trying to hide it. He was not as quiet as before but tried his best to keep up a conversation. Before he left, he handed Chalandra a coin for an apple, which he gave to her as well. She ate the fruit as she led the quiet mare back to the farm. When she arrived back at Clount Farm, the son was again waiting for her. When she handed him the money, he nodded and dismissed her.  
"You know you don't come in tomorrow, right?"  
"Yes, I do thank you," she replied.  
"You'll get paid at the end of the month, in thee and a half weeks, that alright?”  
"That is fine."  
The man nodded again before turning back to the house. Pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders, she left the farm and turned back to the villageOnce Chalandra had led the mare into town, she hung the sign on the back of the cart, assuming no one would help her that day either. To her surprise, the sound of footfalls stopped behind her.  
"Do you need some help?" a deep-voiced man asked.  
Turning around to meet the gaze of a tall, broad-shouldered man, she tried to understand what he was asking.  
"Would you like help unloading your cart?" he asked again, his voice softer then when he had first addressed her.  
"If you would not mind," she answered timidly, turning her gaze away.  
"Not at all; it would be my pleasure," he replied with a small smile.  
Stepping down from the wooden pathway, he grabbed the first basket.  
"Are you new around here?"  
"Yes, yes I am.”  
“What do you think of it then?”  
"It is cold, very cold. Most of the people have been very kind though," she answered, her voice quiet.  
"You must be lucky. Most people around here are selfish and greedy."  
As he unloaded the baskets, Chalandra studied the man. Why was he so willing to help her? No one else had assisted her, even glanced at her, but he had volunteered. He had offered to take time away from his day to help, without request from her. His hair was mostly black, with a few strands of grey mixed in; cut at his shoulders, with a slight wave to it. It appeared to be coarse, almost wiry, and he had pulled back the front to a knot in the back. His skin was much darker than she had seen around the village, only further evidence that he worked outside in the sun. His hands were rough from work, and the ease with which he unloaded the cart showed that he was quite used to lifting heavy objects high and carrying them about.  
While his voice had sounded gruff when he first got her attention, it now had a softer, gentler tone. What captured her, though, was his face. It was well weathered from the sun and hard work, with many lines carving their way across his dark skin, several extending from the corners of his eyes. Other than a small patch of hair above his lip, he was clean shaven. His eyes were gentle; a beautiful grey-blue in color. Though they seemed to have seen many sorrows, they still contained a kind spark. His clothes were rather worn, but still better suited for the cold than hers were. His boots were made of simple brown leather, very worn but still useful in keeping out the cold. His shirt was faded, woven of a coarse blue-grey fabric, with a small slit extending down the center, laced shut. Over his clothing he wore a dark brown leather coat, lined with animal fur. It fell down to below his knees, and while it had been patched many times, it seemed to keep him warm. For gloves, he wore a ratty old pair, made of some kind of knit material on the outside, with an animal fur to line the inside. They only covered his hands, not his fingers, likely to give him a better grip.  
The cart was unloaded quickly, given the man's strength. When he was done, she moved the sign back to the stall. It was only then that she realized there was no way for her to move the baskets back onto the cart, but that was a problem for later. Without her saying anything, the man seemed to sense her dilemma.  
"I can come back later to load the cart again.”  
"I cannot ask you to do that, as it is my work.”  
"You are not asking. I am offering," he corrected with a smile.  
From one of the baskets, he grabbed two apples and asked: "How much for these?"  
"Nothing, not for the help you gave."  
"No, tell me how much. I would not take food without paying in times like these."  
"One bronze," she finally replied.  
Grabbing the woven brown bag he had lay down before assisting her, he pulled out a single bronze coin. After placing the bag over his shoulder, he handed her the coin.  
"Here you are," he said softly.  
The man smiled, and though it was rather small, his eyes sparkled with a happiness all their own.  
"Thank you," she said, taking the coin.  
Before he left, he man tossed one of the apples into the air in a good-natured manner. Catching it with ease, he tossed it to Chalandra in a single motion. Surprised and caught off guard, she managed to catch it but rather clumsily.  
"May I ask your name?" the man inquired.  
"Chalandra."  
The man did offer his name, but simply gave her gentle smile.  
"I will see you later today, Chalandra," he said, turning away.  
"Wait sir, you forgot your apple," she reminded, holding it out to him.  
Gently, he pushed her hand back.  
"You need it."  
Before she had time to protest, the man disappeared, back on his way to work. Though she was thankful for the food, she felt indebted to him. He had given her help and food. What kindness had driven him to do such a thing? That was more than anyone else would have dreamed of doing, but he had done it without a second thought. Hungrily, she bit into the apple, savoring the taste. It was the first time she had tasted anything but stale bread for over a thousand years. Nothing had tasted sweeter, and certainly nothing had given her this much satisfaction. Whomever that man was, he was truly a kind man.

That night, Chalandra again lay in the street. In the dark, she reflected on her day. The man had returned to help her in the evening, as he had promised. However, he seemed tired and worn, but still assisted her without complaint. Though he said very little, he still was kind to her. When she had brought the load of unsold goods back to the farm, the man seemed more pleased than the previous day. When she handed him her earnings, he had smiled and nodded. Though the man had not given her any more food, probably because he was tired and cold, she rested without the gnawing pain of hunger. To any other person, a single apple would never have been enough, but she was used to the small limited amount of food.  
Tonight, she was able to get some manner of sleep. The following morning, the man was leaned up against her stall, waiting.  
"I was wondering when you were going to get here," he greeted, smiling at her.  
"I apologize, I am somewhat late this morning. I did not know you were coming.”  
"It is fine, and here I am."  
"Why is it you help me? Everyone else turns their head away when I ask for help, but you offered," she asked, her eyes still glancing to the ground every few seconds.  
"You need it more than others here do," he replied.  
After a brief pause, he turned to her.  
"On your stall table.”  
"What?" she asked, looked over the top of her stall.  
On the table was a slice of bread and a glass of milk laid out on a rough piece of fabric.  
"What is this?" she asked.  
"Your breakfast," he answered nonchalantly.  
"Why would you bring me this?"  
"You are too thin, it is not good to be your size in the cold. Besides, you do not have any money, and therefore no food."  
"How do you know that?" she questioned, her tone filled with embarrassment and her gaze falling to the dirt.  
"People who have money do not sleep on the street."  
"What? How did you find that out?" she inquired, hurt and somewhat embarrassed.  
"It is nothing to be ashamed of, times are hard in this town."  
"How did you know?"  
"If you had money, you would have bought yourself warmer clothes," he explained, gesturing to her ensemble.  
"But how do you know I have been sleeping on the streets?”  
"It is the street."  
"No one has cared, why do you?" she pressed, a little more firmly than would have been considered polite.  
That time, he did not reply. The baskets were soon unloaded and Chalandra moved them about the stall.  
"Thank you, for helping me, and for the breakfast," she said softly, offering him a small, sad smile.  
"It was my pleasure," he answered, turning away.  
The man had only taken two steps before he stopped and turned back to her.  
"What are you doing tomorrow?"  
"I am working." she replied.  
"No, you are not. It is the day off, Saturday."  
"It is? How do you know I am off on Saturdays?" she inquired.  
"Most of the town is, and I know Clount takes all the time off he can get. Would you go somewhere with me, though?" he requested, raising his eyebrows slightly.  
"Where?”  
"I do not know, not yet.”  
"Why would I go somewhere with a man whose name I do not know?”  
"Thane, my name is Thane," he answered.  
"Thane? Wait, are you of-”  
"Will you come?" he interrupted.  
After a slight pause, she nodded.  
"Yes, I will."  
"Good. I will see you later then," he said, turning back to the street.  
Once the man was gone, Chalandra thought about his name as she ate the food he had brought her. It was not likely a name any man would have been called, but more likely a Dendä name. He could not possibly be a Dendä though, not with his appearance and voice. The Dendä did not have any facial hair, ever. It was impossible for it to be grown, and they never aged. His face was covered in the marks of hard work and age, and some of his hair had grown in grey. He was tanned, like no Dendä ever could be, as they remained fair of skin. While most Dendä were strong, their strength rarely would show across their body, and he was obviously a strong man.  
Almost as strange as his appearance was his mannerism. Dendä tended to be proud, arrogant people. This, obviously, was a generalization, but most were haughty. He was humble, kind, and caring, contrary to those she had known. His offer to help her had been a sign of his selflessness, which again was somewhat rare among the Dendä. While they were tasked with protecting the earth, that did not mean they had to be nice in doing so. He was so different, so honest and willing to help.  
What, then, was this man? He could not be of Dendä blood, but had to either be full man, simply with a Dendä name, or a half blood. If he was Dendä, what would that mean for her? The guard could not have already found her. Besides, if they had, they would have dragged her away in chains, not helped her to earn a living. This man was not of Dendä blood, he was a human. But what would that mean for her? If he found out she was a Dendä, how would he act? He would not accept her, and the men of the town would probably try to drive her out. She would be chased to another village or killed if they knew, would she not? Men these days did not tolerate the old rule of the Dendä, or so she had heard in whispers. They wanted their own freedom to rule themselves. They wanted the earth and all that was in it, rather than have their watchers of old to protect them. They did not care about having their guidance and protection, they only wanted power. The power to have the earth to themselves and do as they choose without answering to anyone all the days of their life.  
When Thane returned that night to load the crates and baskets back onto the cart, he seemed in better spirits than the previous day. Though he was clearly tired from the day's work, he appeared to be trying to hide it. He was not as quiet as before but tried his best to keep up a conversation. Before he left, he handed Chalandra a coin for an apple, which he gave to her as well. She ate the fruit as she led the quiet mare back to the farm. When she arrived back at Clount Farm, the son was again waiting for her. When she handed him the money, he nodded and dismissed her.  
"You know you don't come in tomorrow, right?"  
"Yes, I do thank you," she replied.  
"You'll get paid at the end of the month, in thee and a half weeks, that alright?”  
"That is fine."  
The man nodded again before turning back to the house. Pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders, she left the farm and turned back to the village  
Once Chalandra had led the mare into town, she hung the sign on the back of the cart, assuming no one would help her that day either. To her surprise, the sound of footfalls stopped behind her.  
"Do you need some help?" a deep-voiced man asked.  
Turning around to meet the gaze of a tall, broad-shouldered man, she tried to understand what he was asking.  
"Would you like help unloading your cart?" he asked again, his voice softer then when he had first addressed her.  
"If you would not mind," she answered timidly, turning her gaze away.  
"Not at all; it would be my pleasure," he replied with a small smile.  
Stepping down from the wooden pathway, he grabbed the first basket.  
"Are you new around here?"  
"Yes, yes I am.”  
“What do you think of it then?”  
"It is cold, very cold. Most of the people have been very kind though," she answered, her voice quiet.  
"You must be lucky. Most people around here are selfish and greedy."  
As he unloaded the baskets, Chalandra studied the man. Why was he so willing to help her? No one else had assisted her, even glanced at her, but he had volunteered. He had offered to take time away from his day to help, without request from her. His hair was mostly black, with a few strands of grey mixed in; cut at his shoulders, with a slight wave to it. It appeared to be coarse, almost wiry, and he had pulled back the front to a knot in the back. His skin was much darker than she had seen around the village, only further evidence that he worked outside in the sun. His hands were rough from work, and the ease with which he unloaded the cart showed that he was quite used to lifting heavy objects high and carrying them about.  
While his voice had sounded gruff when he first got her attention, it now had a softer, gentler tone. What captured her, though, was his face. It was well weathered from the sun and hard work, with many lines carving their way across his dark skin, several extending from the corners of his eyes. Other than a small patch of hair above his lip, he was clean shaven. His eyes were gentle; a beautiful grey-blue in color. Though they seemed to have seen many sorrows, they still contained a kind spark. His clothes were rather worn, but still better suited for the cold than hers were. His boots were made of simple brown leather, very worn but still useful in keeping out the cold. His shirt was faded, woven of a coarse blue-grey fabric, with a small slit extending down the center, laced shut. Over his clothing he wore a dark brown leather coat, lined with animal fur. It fell down to below his knees, and while it had been patched many times, it seemed to keep him warm. For gloves, he wore a ratty old pair, made of some kind of knit material on the outside, with an animal fur to line the inside. They only covered his hands, not his fingers, likely to give him a better grip.  
The cart was unloaded quickly, given the man's strength. When he was done, she moved the sign back to the stall. It was only then that she realized there was no way for her to move the baskets back onto the cart, but that was a problem for later. Without her saying anything, the man seemed to sense her dilemma.  
"I can come back later to load the cart again.”  
"I cannot ask you to do that, as it is my work.”  
"You are not asking. I am offering," he corrected with a smile.  
From one of the baskets, he grabbed two apples and asked: "How much for these?"  
"Nothing, not for the help you gave."  
"No, tell me how much. I would not take food without paying in times like these."  
"One bronze," she finally replied.  
Grabbing the woven brown bag he had lay down before assisting her, he pulled out a single bronze coin. After placing the bag over his shoulder, he handed her the coin.  
"Here you are," he said softly.  
The man smiled, and though it was rather small, his eyes sparkled with a happiness all their own.  
"Thank you," she said, taking the coin.  
Before he left, he man tossed one of the apples into the air in a good-natured manner. Catching it with ease, he tossed it to Chalandra in a single motion. Surprised and caught off guard, she managed to catch it but rather clumsily.  
"May I ask your name?" the man inquired.  
"Chalandra."  
The man did offer his name, but simply gave her gentle smile.  
"I will see you later today, Chalandra," he said, turning away.  
"Wait sir, you forgot your apple," she reminded, holding it out to him.  
Gently, he pushed her hand back.  
"You need it."  
Before she had time to protest, the man disappeared, back on his way to work. Though she was thankful for the food, she felt indebted to him. He had given her help and food. What kindness had driven him to do such a thing? That was more than anyone else would have dreamed of doing, but he had done it without a second thought. Hungrily, she bit into the apple, savoring the taste. It was the first time she had tasted anything but stale bread for over a thousand years. Nothing had tasted sweeter, and certainly nothing had given her this much satisfaction. Whomever that man was, he was truly a kind man.

That night, Chalandra again lay in the street. In the dark, she reflected on her day. The man had returned to help her in the evening, as he had promised. However, he seemed tired and worn, but still assisted her without complaint. Though he said very little, he still was kind to her. When she had brought the load of unsold goods back to the farm, the man seemed more pleased than the previous day. When she handed him her earnings, he had smiled and nodded. Though the man had not given her any more food, probably because he was tired and cold, she rested without the gnawing pain of hunger. To any other person, a single apple would never have been enough, but she was used to the small limited amount of food.  
Tonight, she was able to get some manner of sleep. The following morning, the man was leaned up against her stall, waiting.  
"I was wondering when you were going to get here," he greeted, smiling at her.  
"I apologize, I am somewhat late this morning. I did not know you were coming.”  
"It is fine, and here I am."  
"Why is it you help me? Everyone else turns their head away when I ask for help, but you offered," she asked, her eyes still glancing to the ground every few seconds.  
"You need it more than others here do," he replied.  
After a brief pause, he turned to her.  
"On your stall table.”  
"What?" she asked, looked over the top of her stall.  
On the table was a slice of bread and a glass of milk laid out on a rough piece of fabric.  
"What is this?" she asked.  
"Your breakfast," he answered nonchalantly.  
"Why would you bring me this?"  
"You are too thin, it is not good to be your size in the cold. Besides, you do not have any money, and therefore no food."  
"How do you know that?" she questioned, her tone filled with embarrassment and her gaze falling to the dirt.  
"People who have money do not sleep on the street."  
"What? How did you find that out?" she inquired, hurt and somewhat embarrassed.  
"It is nothing to be ashamed of, times are hard in this town."  
"How did you know?"  
"If you had money, you would have bought yourself warmer clothes," he explained, gesturing to her ensemble.  
"But how do you know I have been sleeping on the streets?”  
"It is the street."  
"No one has cared, why do you?" she pressed, a little more firmly than would have been considered polite.  
That time, he did not reply. The baskets were soon unloaded and Chalandra moved them about the stall.  
"Thank you, for helping me, and for the breakfast," she said softly, offering him a small, sad smile.  
"It was my pleasure," he answered, turning away.  
The man had only taken two steps before he stopped and turned back to her.  
"What are you doing tomorrow?"  
"I am working." she replied.  
"No, you are not. It is the day off, Saturday."  
"It is? How do you know I am off on Saturdays?" she inquired.  
"Most of the town is, and I know Clount takes all the time off he can get. Would you go somewhere with me, though?" he requested, raising his eyebrows slightly.  
"Where?”  
"I do not know, not yet.”  
"Why would I go somewhere with a man whose name I do not know?”  
"Thane, my name is Thane," he answered.  
"Thane? Wait, are you of-”  
"Will you come?" he interrupted.  
After a slight pause, she nodded.  
"Yes, I will."  
"Good. I will see you later then," he said, turning back to the street.  
Once the man was gone, Chalandra thought about his name as she ate the food he had brought her. It was not likely a name any man would have been called, but more likely a Dendä name. He could not possibly be a Dendä though, not with his appearance and voice. The Dendä did not have any facial hair, ever. It was impossible for it to be grown, and they never aged. His face was covered in the marks of hard work and age, and some of his hair had grown in grey. He was tanned, like no Dendä ever could be, as they remained fair of skin. While most Dendä were strong, their strength rarely would show across their body, and he was obviously a strong man.  
Almost as strange as his appearance was his mannerism. Dendä tended to be proud, arrogant people. This, obviously, was a generalization, but most were haughty. He was humble, kind, and caring, contrary to those she had known. His offer to help her had been a sign of his selflessness, which again was somewhat rare among the Dendä. While they were tasked with protecting the earth, that did not mean they had to be nice in doing so. He was so different, so honest and willing to help.  
What, then, was this man? He could not be of Dendä blood, but had to either be full man, simply with a Dendä name, or a half blood. If he was Dendä, what would that mean for her? The guard could not have already found her. Besides, if they had, they would have dragged her away in chains, not helped her to earn a living. This man was not of Dendä blood, he was a human. But what would that mean for her? If he found out she was a Dendä, how would he act? He would not accept her, and the men of the town would probably try to drive her out. She would be chased to another village or killed if they knew, would she not? Men these days did not tolerate the old rule of the Dendä, or so she had heard in whispers. They wanted their own freedom to rule themselves. They wanted the earth and all that was in it, rather than have their watchers of old to protect them. They did not care about having their guidance and protection, they only wanted power. The power to have the earth to themselves and do as they choose without answering to anyone all the days of their life.  
When Thane returned that night to load the crates and baskets back onto the cart, he seemed in better spirits than the previous day. Though he was clearly tired from the day's work, he appeared to be trying to hide it. He was not as quiet as before but tried his best to keep up a conversation. Before he left, he handed Chalandra a coin for an apple, which he gave to her as well. She ate the fruit as she led the quiet mare back to the farm. When she arrived back at Clount Farm, the son was again waiting for her. When she handed him the money, he nodded and dismissed her.  
"You know you don't come in tomorrow, right?"  
"Yes, I do thank you," she replied.  
"You'll get paid at the end of the month, in thee and a half weeks, that alright?”  
"That is fine."  
The man nodded again before turning back to the house. Pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders, she left the farm and turned back to the village  
Once Chalandra had led the mare into town, she hung the sign on the back of the cart, assuming no one would help her that day either. To her surprise, the sound of footfalls stopped behind her.  
"Do you need some help?" a deep-voiced man asked.  
Turning around to meet the gaze of a tall, broad-shouldered man, she tried to understand what he was asking.  
"Would you like help unloading your cart?" he asked again, his voice softer then when he had first addressed her.  
"If you would not mind," she answered timidly, turning her gaze away.  
"Not at all; it would be my pleasure," he replied with a small smile.  
Stepping down from the wooden pathway, he grabbed the first basket.  
"Are you new around here?"  
"Yes, yes I am.”  
“What do you think of it then?”  
"It is cold, very cold. Most of the people have been very kind though," she answered, her voice quiet.  
"You must be lucky. Most people around here are selfish and greedy."  
As he unloaded the baskets, Chalandra studied the man. Why was he so willing to help her? No one else had assisted her, even glanced at her, but he had volunteered. He had offered to take time away from his day to help, without request from her. His hair was mostly black, with a few strands of grey mixed in; cut at his shoulders, with a slight wave to it. It appeared to be coarse, almost wiry, and he had pulled back the front to a knot in the back. His skin was much darker than she had seen around the village, only further evidence that he worked outside in the sun. His hands were rough from work, and the ease with which he unloaded the cart showed that he was quite used to lifting heavy objects high and carrying them about.  
While his voice had sounded gruff when he first got her attention, it now had a softer, gentler tone. What captured her, though, was his face. It was well weathered from the sun and hard work, with many lines carving their way across his dark skin, several extending from the corners of his eyes. Other than a small patch of hair above his lip, he was clean shaven. His eyes were gentle; a beautiful grey-blue in color. Though they seemed to have seen many sorrows, they still contained a kind spark. His clothes were rather worn, but still better suited for the cold than hers were. His boots were made of simple brown leather, very worn but still useful in keeping out the cold. His shirt was faded, woven of a coarse blue-grey fabric, with a small slit extending down the center, laced shut. Over his clothing he wore a dark brown leather coat, lined with animal fur. It fell down to below his knees, and while it had been patched many times, it seemed to keep him warm. For gloves, he wore a ratty old pair, made of some kind of knit material on the outside, with an animal fur to line the inside. They only covered his hands, not his fingers, likely to give him a better grip.  
The cart was unloaded quickly, given the man's strength. When he was done, she moved the sign back to the stall. It was only then that she realized there was no way for her to move the baskets back onto the cart, but that was a problem for later. Without her saying anything, the man seemed to sense her dilemma.  
"I can come back later to load the cart again.”  
"I cannot ask you to do that, as it is my work.”  
"You are not asking. I am offering," he corrected with a smile.  
From one of the baskets, he grabbed two apples and asked: "How much for these?"  
"Nothing, not for the help you gave."  
"No, tell me how much. I would not take food without paying in times like these."  
"One bronze," she finally replied.  
Grabbing the woven brown bag he had lay down before assisting her, he pulled out a single bronze coin. After placing the bag over his shoulder, he handed her the coin.  
"Here you are," he said softly.  
The man smiled, and though it was rather small, his eyes sparkled with a happiness all their own.  
"Thank you," she said, taking the coin.  
Before he left, he man tossed one of the apples into the air in a good-natured manner. Catching it with ease, he tossed it to Chalandra in a single motion. Surprised and caught off guard, she managed to catch it but rather clumsily.  
"May I ask your name?" the man inquired.  
"Chalandra."  
The man did offer his name, but simply gave her gentle smile.  
"I will see you later today, Chalandra," he said, turning away.  
"Wait sir, you forgot your apple," she reminded, holding it out to him.  
Gently, he pushed her hand back.  
"You need it."  
Before she had time to protest, the man disappeared, back on his way to work. Though she was thankful for the food, she felt indebted to him. He had given her help and food. What kindness had driven him to do such a thing? That was more than anyone else would have dreamed of doing, but he had done it without a second thought. Hungrily, she bit into the apple, savoring the taste. It was the first time she had tasted anything but stale bread for over a thousand years. Nothing had tasted sweeter, and certainly nothing had given her this much satisfaction. Whomever that man was, he was truly a kind man.

That night, Chalandra again lay in the street. In the dark, she reflected on her day. The man had returned to help her in the evening, as he had promised. However, he seemed tired and worn, but still assisted her without complaint. Though he said very little, he still was kind to her. When she had brought the load of unsold goods back to the farm, the man seemed more pleased than the previous day. When she handed him her earnings, he had smiled and nodded. Though the man had not given her any more food, probably because he was tired and cold, she rested without the gnawing pain of hunger. To any other person, a single apple would never have been enough, but she was used to the small limited amount of food.  
Tonight, she was able to get some manner of sleep. The following morning, the man was leaned up against her stall, waiting.  
"I was wondering when you were going to get here," he greeted, smiling at her.  
"I apologize, I am somewhat late this morning. I did not know you were coming.”  
"It is fine, and here I am."  
"Why is it you help me? Everyone else turns their head away when I ask for help, but you offered," she asked, her eyes still glancing to the ground every few seconds.  
"You need it more than others here do," he replied.  
After a brief pause, he turned to her.  
"On your stall table.”  
"What?" she asked, looked over the top of her stall.  
On the table was a slice of bread and a glass of milk laid out on a rough piece of fabric.  
"What is this?" she asked.  
"Your breakfast," he answered nonchalantly.  
"Why would you bring me this?"  
"You are too thin, it is not good to be your size in the cold. Besides, you do not have any money, and therefore no food."  
"How do you know that?" she questioned, her tone filled with embarrassment and her gaze falling to the dirt.  
"People who have money do not sleep on the street."  
"What? How did you find that out?" she inquired, hurt and somewhat embarrassed.  
"It is nothing to be ashamed of, times are hard in this town."  
"How did you know?"  
"If you had money, you would have bought yourself warmer clothes," he explained, gesturing to her ensemble.  
"But how do you know I have been sleeping on the streets?”  
"It is the street."  
"No one has cared, why do you?" she pressed, a little more firmly than would have been considered polite.  
That time, he did not reply. The baskets were soon unloaded and Chalandra moved them about the stall.  
"Thank you, for helping me, and for the breakfast," she said softly, offering him a small, sad smile.  
"It was my pleasure," he answered, turning away.  
The man had only taken two steps before he stopped and turned back to her.  
"What are you doing tomorrow?"  
"I am working." she replied.  
"No, you are not. It is the day off, Saturday."  
"It is? How do you know I am off on Saturdays?" she inquired.  
"Most of the town is, and I know Clount takes all the time off he can get. Would you go somewhere with me, though?" he requested, raising his eyebrows slightly.  
"Where?”  
"I do not know, not yet.”  
"Why would I go somewhere with a man whose name I do not know?”  
"Thane, my name is Thane," he answered.  
"Thane? Wait, are you of-”  
"Will you come?" he interrupted.  
After a slight pause, she nodded.  
"Yes, I will."  
"Good. I will see you later then," he said, turning back to the street.  
Once the man was gone, Chalandra thought about his name as she ate the food he had brought her. It was not likely a name any man would have been called, but more likely a Dendä name. He could not possibly be a Dendä though, not with his appearance and voice. The Dendä did not have any facial hair, ever. It was impossible for it to be grown, and they never aged. His face was covered in the marks of hard work and age, and some of his hair had grown in grey. He was tanned, like no Dendä ever could be, as they remained fair of skin. While most Dendä were strong, their strength rarely would show across their body, and he was obviously a strong man.  
Almost as strange as his appearance was his mannerism. Dendä tended to be proud, arrogant people. This, obviously, was a generalization, but most were haughty. He was humble, kind, and caring, contrary to those she had known. His offer to help her had been a sign of his selflessness, which again was somewhat rare among the Dendä. While they were tasked with protecting the earth, that did not mean they had to be nice in doing so. He was so different, so honest and willing to help.  
What, then, was this man? He could not be of Dendä blood, but had to either be full man, simply with a Dendä name, or a half blood. If he was Dendä, what would that mean for her? The guard could not have already found her. Besides, if they had, they would have dragged her away in chains, not helped her to earn a living. This man was not of Dendä blood, he was a human. But what would that mean for her? If he found out she was a Dendä, how would he act? He would not accept her, and the men of the town would probably try to drive her out. She would be chased to another village or killed if they knew, would she not? Men these days did not tolerate the old rule of the Dendä, or so she had heard in whispers. They wanted their own freedom to rule themselves. They wanted the earth and all that was in it, rather than have their watchers of old to protect them. They did not care about having their guidance and protection, they only wanted power. The power to have the earth to themselves and do as they choose without answering to anyone all the days of their life.  
When Thane returned that night to load the crates and baskets back onto the cart, he seemed in better spirits than the previous day. Though he was clearly tired from the day's work, he appeared to be trying to hide it. He was not as quiet as before but tried his best to keep up a conversation. Before he left, he handed Chalandra a coin for an apple, which he gave to her as well. She ate the fruit as she led the quiet mare back to the farm. When she arrived back at Clount Farm, the son was again waiting for her. When she handed him the money, he nodded and dismissed her.  
"You know you don't come in tomorrow, right?"  
"Yes, I do thank you," she replied.  
"You'll get paid at the end of the month, in thee and a half weeks, that alright?”  
"That is fine."  
The man nodded again before turning back to the house. Pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders, she left the farm and turned back to the village


	5. Hidden Beauty

The next morning, Chalandra woke to find she had not only slept, but that someone had placed a coat over her shivering body. Before, she had not been able to sleep much due to the cold, but that night she had, probably due to the warmth. Sitting up, she brushed the frost from herself and her newfound coat. Looking it over, she found it was slightly worn, but still in good condition. It had been mended several times but was still intact. It was similar to the coat Thane wore, though was crafted of a faded blue fabric on the outside and lined with animal fur on the inside. Eagerly, she put it on. To her surprise, it was almost the right size, only a little big. The coat fell to just above her knees in length, with sleeves that covered half her hand. There were three buttons from just below the neckline to the waist, which she quickly buttoned.  
As she buttoned the coat down the front, she realized this was not an act of charity from a stranger, but Thane's doing. She felt grateful that he would do something like that, but also indebted. Why did he care? No one else in the town cared like he did. They offered her a place to stay, but she could not accept. They offered her a job, but a job too hard for her to perform on her own. He gave her the aid she needed at all times and asked nothing in return.  
Several minutes later, Thane arrived, as promised.  
"Good morning," he greeted.  
"Why did you do this?" she marveled.  
"Do what?" he asked, pretending not to know.  
"Leave me this coat. It is more than I deserve."  
"Oh, you got a coat. Now that is luck, is it not? You will need a coat for where we are going today."  
"I know you left it, I just want to know why," she pressed.  
"It was a gift from someone, or I would have brought it with me."  
"No, because I believe you know I would have never accepted it. Thank you," she said softly, looking down.  
"How would I know that?” he argued. “I barely know you.”  
Chalandra did not reply as she knew he would continue to deny the truth. She knew the coat was from him, whatever he may say. He offered her his arm, which she took with brief hesitation. She placed her hand on the crook of his elbow, while he held his hand in front of his stomach.  
"Where exactly are we going?" she asked.  
Obviously nervous about going off with a strange man. She may have been naive, but not that naive  
"Do not worry," he assured her, realizing she would most likely be worried about leaving with him, “It is not far.”  
"But where is it we are going?"  
"You will have to see. First, we are getting you breakfast.”  
"You do not have to-" she protested.  
"It is my responsibility as your date to make sure you are properly fed."  
"This is a date?" she asked, surprised and uneasy, quickly she withdrew her arm from his elbow.  
"Is it?"  
Chalandra did not press the matter any longer, realizing that was what he considered it. She felt her heart drop, for allowing another to attempt to win their way into her affection was not something she had considered or wanted. Yet, because of his kindness, he had earned one day of her time. Perhaps, she too, for one day, would allow herself to imagine what might have come to pass had she lived a different life.  
As they walked along the wooden walkway, she struggled to keep up with his long stride. It only took him a few minutes to realize her difficulty and slow his pace slightly. When they reached a particular stall, he turned towards it and stopped.  
“Well good morning, Thane," the lady greeted, a broad smile revealing her crooked teeth, "Who's your lady friend?  
"Good morning, Ann. Two cups of tea, two biscuits, and two apples.”  
"Here you are," the lady said, handing him the food, "Who is this?"  
"This is Chalandra, she is new in town,” Thane answered.  
"Ah, I see. How nice of ya, to show her around and all. Good to see you with a lady though, I was beginning to think you were on the other side, keeping mostly to your male friends and all."  
Thane laughed a little, though it was slightly uncomfortable.  
"No, that I am not.”  
"Just an assumption, that's all. There are lots of fine ladies in this town who would have ya, you just never paid 'um any mind, or the others any money. She's a lucky one eh?”  
"Thank you, Ann, I will see you later," he said, trying excuse himself.  
"Aye, have a good day.”  
As he turned away, Thane handed Chalandra half of the food.  
"My friend, Ann. I get my food from her. Cheap, and I have known her for five years."  
Chalandra nodded, noticeably intimidated by the overbearing woman.  
"What did she mean, the other side?”  
"Oh, that,” he sighed awkwardly, “She thought I liked men, instead of woman."  
"Oh..." Chalandra stuttered, realizing what he meant, "Have you really never taken another woman around town before?"  
"No, no I have not."  
"And you have been here five years?”  
"Yes, almost six," he replied.  
"Then why me?" she questioned.  
"I told you, you needed assistance."  
"You have known me two days and you ask me to spend the day with you," she said hesitantly.  
"I have not seen any woman because I know the kind of woman I like, and the ones who would take me are not that kind."  
"What do you mean, would take you? I think most women would," she muttered, glancing him over once.  
"No, they would not.”  
"Have you tried?" she laughed.  
“I have not been interested," he replied, shrugging.  
His solitude confused her even more. Why her? The question echoed through her head again and again, begging to be answered. Thane had not answered her, and there was no way she could make sense of it. She was a killer. A killer. Less than a month ago, she had been innocent, the victim. Now, she herself was guilty, for another's sake she had taken this life upon herself. For the sake of an ungrateful, hard-headed woman. Why had she done that? For all the years of her life, she would carry this regret.  
Had her taskmaster not deserved to die though? All the years she had known him, had been cruel to her. He did deserve death, but that was not for her to decide, was it? If she was not going to bring him justice, who would? She was the only one who gave him what he deserved; death. Yet that was not for her to choose. She did not have the right to decide who deserves life and death, no matter the circumstances. No matter what he had done to her, she was wrong. She was a killer. She murdered him.  
Chalandra had been so deep in thought she had not noticed where they had gone. Both Thane and she had finished their breakfast. He had led her out of town, and they now walked towards the riverbank. There was no path for them to walk on, so he led her across the partially frozen stalks of green. As they walked, the grass crunched beneath their feet, testifying to the cold. From where they stood, she could hear the rush of the fast-flowing river, sending a shudder through her body.  
"Are you alright?" Thane asked, feeling her tremble.  
"I am fine, thank you," she replied.  
When they neared the water, he turned to the right, towards a small dock. Several boats were tied to the weathered wood, all but one of them only big enough for two or three people. When they reached the dock, Thane led her onto the creaking wood. Stepping into the second small boat, he held out his hand for her. Unsure, Chalandra gingerly stepped into the unstable rowboat with Thane's help. As she tried to gain her balance, the boat lurched forward from the current, causing her to fall forward.  
Before she fell into the freezing water below, Thane grabbed her by the upper arm and around the waist, pulling her back in. Scared, Chalandra sat wide eyed in fright.  
"It is alright, it happens."  
"I almost fell in," she said, panicked, her breath coming quick.  
"You will get it, just a little unsteady at first," he responded calmly, easing her down into the seat to ensure she was safe.  
"Is this your boat?" she asked, looking around and attempting to take her mind off her nerves.  
"That it is."  
Thane untied the rope tethering them to the dock and pushed them off. Grabbing the oars, he began to row, taking them away from town and upstream.  
"What is your job, that you would have a boat?" she questioned, trying to make conversation.  
"I help ferry logs from the forest down to the mill."  
"Is that not dangerous work?" she inquired.  
"It can be. Many a man has died on this river."  
"Then why do you do it?”  
"Long days and hard work pay well," he explained.  
"What use is money if you are dead?" she scoffed.  
"I would not die on these waters, that much is certain."  
"What use do you have for more money than you need?"  
"I am doing what every responsible man does, providing for his family."  
“I thought you did not have a family," she interrupted, horrified to think he was married.  
"I do not, yet. I am putting aside most of my earnings for when I do take a bride. I already have a house and a good portion of money for later in my life,” he answered, “When I marry, and have children, I can take less risky work. Then, they need not worry about me while I am away. They will rest easier knowing I am safe, and I will have an easier time knowing they are taken care of. If, for some reason, I should die, they would have a good amount of money to live on.”  
"That is more than most men ever do," she smiled, looking to the bottom of the boat.  
Thane shook his head.  
"I would not say that. Many men care more for their families then they care to let on. Some consider it a weakness to show their tender, more caring side to anyone but their immediate family, if even them."  
"What do you think?" she questioned.  
"I think a man should be able to balance his life. The people of the town may not need to see his soft side, but he must have one. His wife and children should know well that he has one.  
She nodded, unsure how to reply. Having been a slave and treated so badly, she never imagined she would be married. In truth, she had not even thought about such a future. She had been forced to believe men were evil and uncaring. But he was not. Somewhere deep in the back of her mind, she had assumed marriage was a kind of slavery, as that was all she had ever seen it become. Someday, if she was blessed despite all her evils, she might find a man who loved her in that way. A man who would long to see her happy, one who would mask his own hardship just to see her smile. A husband who did not care if the day felt as though a lifetime had passed, as all his pain would pass away at the happiness of seeing his wife.  
Yet she knew no one could ever love her, not truly. She was not beautiful, nor was she a joy to watch. No one had ever masked their pain for her sake, and no one ever should. People like her were always cast aside for a reason. She was the unlovable, the forsaken, of her kind. No one, man or Dendä should ever take her in and love her. If a man were to choose her, honest love or not, she would either have to take it or support herself to the end of days. Misery was her fate, not joy. Never would she hear loving words echo through her mind as her husband pledged his love to her. She would never have the pleasure of her husband taking her into his arms at the end of a long day. He would never show her what it really meant to be in love or protect her from all harm. Her fate, as she deserved, was to be cast off and unloved until the end of her days. For she could not accept love, and for that reason she would not show it.

"We are almost there," Thane told her, once again interrupting her thoughts,  
Chalandra then realized how far they had gone. The town was no longer in sight, as it had disappeared behind the trees. Immediately, her heart rate increased and adrenaline began to surge in her veins. So far from anyone else. Yet there was beauty around her. In place of the town, great mountains drew close. They rose above the trees; showing their great mist-veiled peaks above the forest. They had taken the stream straight for a long time, moving into the forest. Now in the forest, Thane turned it down a bend to the right, deeper into the thickening forest.  
"How is it that you row upstream with such ease?" she asked, trying to distract herself from the rhythmic pounding of her heart.  
"I have been doing this job a long time, and every day, two or three times, I go back upstream," he replied, his voice strained from the taxing work, "I have gotten strong enough to do it without much difficulty, except for the sections in which the current is very strong."  
Ahead, Chalandra saw a clearing in the trees to the right against the mountains. Once they reached the clearing, she saw it was a massive cliff face, cut deep from the years of erosion. It made a perfect, smooth looking arch that extended far to either side making a sort of half-cave; around four hundred feet in length. Beneath the rockface, the ground was covered entirely with black stones. No grass grew, no other stones were mixed in, it was all black. Thane turned the boat and beached it on the shore. Jumping out, he pulled the small boat higher onto the land.  
Where the black stones were, the current passed by, leaving a sort of calm bay. The water was still, a beautiful still aqua color. Much of it had floating ice bobbing on the surface, but most of the ice was towards the land. Though it did not have hardly any current, the gentle flow in and out of the bay prevented it from freezing over. Stepping off of the rowboat, onto the land, she found the rocks were almost all uniform. They were different sizes and some different shapes, but most of them were oblong. They were all smooth and pleasant to walk on, though they were cold from the lack of sun. Chalandra walked up to the large black rock spanning overhead. Touching it, she found it was smooth, but not nearly as smooth as the marble-faced rocks. Sitting down, she picked up a stone.  
"I have never seen anything like it. All of them are smooth and uniform, and all black. How does it happen?" she marveled.  
Thane sat down next to her and picked up a second rock.  
"They are all different, just in more subtle ways than other rocks. I will admit, I have never found anything else like it. I assume, that because the current is gentle here, the chunks that fall from the rockface are washed back up on shore once they are perfect. Look everywhere on this stretch of land, you will find nothing but black rocks. I do not know how it has become so perfectly beautiful, but it has," as he spoke, his voice drifted off, growing softer as he became distracted by his company.  
After a moment of silence, he spoke again.  
"Why is it you came today?" he inquired.  
"You have helped me a lot in the past few days, I want to know why."  
"That is what people do, sometimes. Help each other," he replied, shrugging.  
"Is it?" she recounted timidly, "No one but you even looked at me twice."  
"I make it a priority to assist those who need it. Time is valuable, but some need my time more than I do," he explained.  
"Why me though? There are a hundred people in town who would all be equally grateful. There is nothing that sets me apart."  
"You are alone. Few in the town are. They have a house, or a family, but you have nothing. I have seen it."  
She looked away, ashamed. She had done her best to hide her position, her neediness, but he had seen it so how many others.  
"There is nothing to be ashamed about. It is not your fault," he assured her.  
Looking at her for another moment, he spoke again: "You come from a place where no one helped each other, did you not?”  
"I am certain people helped each other but I was invisible.”  
"Why?" he pressed.  
"It was my place. The king and the queen, the husband and the wife, they all have a place. Mine is alone," she replied.  
"No one is meant to be alone, Chalandra. No matter what their past, or where they came from, every person deserves love and happiness. Everyone deserves to be loved and to love in exchange."  
"I merely do not have anyone, not anymore," she said quickly, trying to cover up her past.  
"Who did you once have?"  
"My mother, but she died when I was very young. I hardly remember her now."  
"No one else?" he asked.  
"Not in my life," she answered forlornly.  
"You must feel very alone."  
"Yes," she murmured softly.  
"I am sorry."  
"It is not your fault. Simply my place in this world," she muttered.  
"You are very cold," he observed, looking at her fair face, "Very lovely, but very cold. You must have seen very terrible things and experienced much pain to have brought you here. I hear the sadness, your sorrow, when you talk. I know it is there, no matter what you say."  
"I will not deny it, but I will not share it.”  
"I will not ask you to tell me your past, not if you do not wish to.”  
"Some things are for me and myself alone."  
"I will respect that, though I wish I knew what sorrow plagues you," he admitted.  
"Not everything is meant to come into the light. Some things belong to the dark."  
"That is true," he admitted, though he was disappointed to not be trusted with her past, though he hardly expected to after just having met her a few days prior.  
For a long while they sat in silence, admiring the beauty of the land. For Chalandra, this was a life she never dared to dream of. The sunlight alone was enough to take her breath away. So many years in the dark forces one has to be incredibly grateful for the smallest things. Things that others take for granted, like the birdsong and the wind. Somethings that other hate, like snow and rain, are a blessing to others. Everything is relative to those who are being asked. For Chalandra, there was no choice but to be thankful. She loved the cold as much as she loved the warmth, the rain as much as the sun. Water and air, dark and light, everything was a blessing. As sad as it may be, there are those of their world who do not take the time to admire great things, and even consider them trivial. But to her, there was nothing greater.  
No want could ever come of her contentment; no hatred of her peace. Yet within her lingered the fire of a murderer; the rage that moved her to kill. It did not matter what he had done to her in the past, she was wrong. Death and killing, wrath and rage are all things later regretted, no matter how right it feels at the time. But for now, there would be peace, and from peace and happiness and joy things grow and are nurtured.  
As they sat, in pure contentment, away from the world of sorrow, nothing could harm them. Not even the reality that they both faced. She faced starvation, he faced dangerous labor. But not now. This was whole, this was warmth and peace. The world of misery outside could not touch their perfect world. As long as they remained here, they were safe. If nothing else ever happened in their lives, they would be happy, because what does one strive for but peace and security. That place provided it. They had nothing they could ever want, nothing. Not her.  
Slowly, so not to drive her away, Thane inched his way towards her. He had remained silent as she admired the wonders of this place. He had been there before. While she had admired the surroundings he discreetly watched the company he was blessed with. He knew already that he felt attracted to her in a different manner than any other woman. Those around him, they were nothing like her. She marveled at the smallest thing, the most insignificant of the world. No one else did. She had suffered, but found her joy, her freedom. She needed help more than anyone he had ever crossed path with, and he wanted desperately to help her. He would not push her, he would not act quickly on his feelings. He would let her be, and hope that someday she realized his admiration. Perhaps, if he were lucky and had done right in his life, he would find the woman that made him feel this way, whether or not it was her.  
Though they never wished to leave, the sun soon began to set, and with it came the time to leave. The journey downstream was considerably faster, and they were able to let the current carry them almost the whole way. Little had been said between them, but perhaps it was enough. Soon after they docked, they parted with a simple farewell. Throughout the night, Thane could not help but think of her, sleeping outside on the cold streets. However, he knew she was too stubborn and independent to accept any more aid than he had already given.


	6. Those Cast Aside

In the weeks that followed, Thane faithfully came to help Chalandra before he began his work. Every morning, he brought her food, usually from Ann's booth, though he occasionally brought food from his home for her. Every day, they had the same conversation in which she would protest his assistance, but he would refuse to stop. There was no way to stop him, not that either of them could foresee.  
That morning, an early midweek morning, he slept in far later than usual. When he woke, he quickly realized the time. It was late, much later than he should have woken even to go straight to work. Quickly, he sprang from his bed and rushed out the door, nearly forgetting to gather some manner of food before he left. For the first time in a great many months, he ran to work, afraid he would not get there in time. He was halfway there when he remembered Chalandra needed his help.  
On the other side of town, Chalandra stood, leaning against the wagon. Thane was not coming. For whatever reason, he was not going to help her today. It did not bother her, she was capable enough on her own. She did not need anyone to help her. Whatever the reason, she was unconcerned with whether or not he came. So much he had already done for her, it was a miracle he still wanted to help her. For a while, she tried unloading the cart herself, but only managed to get several of the baskets off. Even now that she was well fed by Thane, she was not strong enough to haul all those baskets, laden with goods, off.  
The day dragged on, and Chalandra slowly came to realize she missed her morning meeting with Thane. He made her day a little brighter, simply by caring. What was this strange feeling bubbling within her? No, it could not be. She would not allow it. Never. Not her. Not a good man like Thane, she would not ruin him. Alone was her fate. Friends they were, but she suspected Thane would take her as more the first chance he got. With her approval, he would certainly court her. No, not her. Anyone but her. She was ruined, tainted by her misdeeds.  
When the sun finally began to slip down behind the rooftops and the air turned to dusky haze, Thane made an appearance. He walked up slowly, as though trodden down by heavy labor. His head was bowed, only a little though. When he approached her stall, he laid three flowers, a beautiful vibrant purple wildflower, on her stall.  
"I am so sorry," he apologized, "I slept late and rushed to work. It is my fault, and it was wrong as you count on me."  
"There is nothing to apologize for. You are perfectly entitled to sleep in. Besides, I do not need anyone to take care of me. Your help is appreciated, but it is a luxury I do not expect," she replied honestly.  
Taking the flower with a small smile, she slipped it into her bunned hair.  
"You owe me nothing." she reminded.  
"Perhaps so, but you are more than worth the time," he smiled, taking the crates she had unloaded into his arms and loading them back onto the cart.  
"Thank you."  
"It is my pleasure. Now, once you take this back, could I interest you in some dinner?" he asked.  
"No, I am alright," she replied.  
Instead of the usual happiness she got from being around him, her heart sank. She did not deserve love, nor such a relationship. There was too much she had kept from him, too much still in the dark.  
“I insist," Thane pressed, his tone firm.  
Chalandra sighed, and shook her head, but he continued.  
"What do you think? A little picnic?" he suggested.  
"A picnic?" she inquired, unsure what he meant.  
"Yes, eating dinner outside, on the grass."  
"No, Thane," she protested, still reluctant.  
"Take your cart back and meet me at the dock in a half an hour. I will go and get us some food, and a blanket to sit on," he instructed.  
Untying the placid old mare, Chalandra led her down the dusty road towards the alleyway. As she went, Thane watched her walk away. So beautiful a woman, yet so burdened. He knew not what was on her heart that plagued her, but he knew her struggle was real. He could feel the dark within her, the cold of her heart. If only spring would come and thaw the ice from within her. Perhaps then she could heal. With another, with his help, perhaps she could heal. They say time heals all wounds. Yet is it not a possibility that some hurt is too deep? Too far beyond saving that it must be instead born as a burden? Perhaps it is not time, but love that has the capability to heal all. A pure, good love could wash over and fill every pit created by time.

After returning the brown mare to Clount Farm, Chalandra walked back down the alleyway and through the streets, already the crowds starting to disperse. As she walked, her feet went along lightly. Though she did not mean to, she went along at a faster gait, knowing she was going to meet Thane. In her heart, no matter how lighthearted her feet seemed, was a consuming dread. She hated herself; she hated all that she had done; she hated how she had kept it a secret from Thane. Should she tell him? He had every right to know. If he ever had wanted her, maybe he still would. He could still love her with any hope.  
Finally, her mind resolved to tell him the truth, but not all of it, she arrived at the dock. For several minutes she waited alone. The weather was still cold, but she sat on the edge of the wooden dock. Easing her feet in, she waited with her legs dangling over, toes brushing the water's edge. Looking round her, she undid her bun and shook out her hair, careful to keep the flower in her golden locks. Thane came soon after and smiled upon seeing her in so peaceful a state. She was careless in that moment, sitting there without worry or restraint. She was free.  
Though it pained him to disrupt her moment of peace, he also knew she would be hungry.  
"Hello again," he greeted, approaching her.  
Offering her his hand, he helped her stand and then let her descend down into the boat.  
"Are you hungry?" he asked.  
"It would be a falsehood to say otherwise," she answered, knowing well enough that she could be honest about such things with him.  
Though she would not complain, her stomach had been an empty pit for the whole of the day as she had no food. Without Thane, she had no means of being fed, not yet. Although she knew he did not mind, she felt indebted to him. No other had been so kind as to feed a starving woman. Not beautiful, not unique, not special. She was ordinary, and he was not, not after what he had done for her. Yet still it pained her greatly to be reliant on another who had no obligation to her, they simply cared and that scared her more than anything else.  
"Then let us be off," he said, untying the ropes.  
"Are we going far tonight?" she inquired, hoping to stay closer for his sake.  
Glancing down, she noticed the oars had spots of blood from the day's work, where his blistered hands had grasped the coarse wood.  
"No, no, not far at all," he answered.  
"Then if you are going to take me out after a hard day's work, you must allow me to bind your wounds," she bargained.  
Embarrassed, Thane turned away.  
"No, not far," he repeated.  
So long he had tried to hide his weaknesses. He always wore gloves for that very reason. He would not let her see him failings and his shortcomings. He saw it as a fault, but she saw it as a gift. One small way in which she could pay back part of her debt. Noticing his discomfort, Chalandra decided to change the subject and ignore the wounds, though she wished to wrap his bleeding hands.  
"Where is it we are going?"  
"Just to the other side of the hill. there is a nice place to sit that overlooks the water," he replied, though she could tell he had forced his tone to be normal but was still embarrassed by her request.  
Several minutes later, they arrived at a grassy area on the left side. It was only a small ways upstream and had only taken them a short while to get there. The rest of their ride was spent in silence, out of awkwardness. Thane jumped out of the boat and onto the land, pulling it up farther onto shore. Although he had landed in the water, he made sure it was far enough up for Chalandra to step onto the shore without getting wet. Additionally, he made sure it was high enough on the land to prevent it from drifting away in the strong current.  
Chalandra stepped out of the boat and onto the land, taking Thane's hand as he offered it to her. The moist grass was cold beneath her bare feet, but she welcomed it as a gift. As she started up the small rise, Thane grabbed the basket and blanket from the boat. His hands were cracked from the cold and the labor, but he would never admit to his faults.  
The walk up the hill was steep, but short. Once at the top, Chalandra drew two breaths of the pure, cold air, before sitting against the single oak that grew atop the hill. Thane was not far behind and was not even a little winded from the climb, so accustomed to hard work he was. In his usual quiet manner, he spread the blanket out for them, and waited for Chalandra to move onto it. Once he had placed it upon the ground, and had started to unpack the basket of food, she moved to sit on it. It was a simple quilt, worn, but still very useful. Thick as it was, it provided good protection from the damp and cold of the ground.  
Finally, Chalandra felt compelled to break the silence.  
"I am sorry, Thane, if I embarrassed you," she apologized, "Please understand that as you wish the best for me, so I wish the best for you. You have been very kind to me in these last weeks, and I want to repay you. However, I did not mean to offend you or hurt you in any way. Instead, I only meant my offer as a kindness, not a way to shame you."  
"It is not your fault," he assured her, "There is nothing to forgive.”  
By this time, Thane had unpacked all of the food. In front of her lay an array greater than any she could have expected, but one that a great many would turn up their haughty noses to. There was bread, rice, a few slices of cheese and dried meat, and pears. She looked to him for approval.  
"By all means," he invited.  
Taking one of the wooden plates, she took a bit of each of the things. Thane went after her, making sure she got her food first. Now, though they still were in silence, she knew they were resolved. Instead, they sat in silence due to the meal in front of them. The view from the top of the hill was breathtaking. The only sound came from the rustle of tree leaves, the fading sound of birdsong, and the splash of water from below. The hill overlooked the rippling water as it ran up on shore, then once again receded to the depths of the river.  
As she suspected, Thane was glad to lend her aid. He considered it his privilege to be capable of helping her. And although he did hope to someday court her, he would have done the same for anyone in need. Had he seen an elderly woman in need of a place to sleep, he would have gladly traded his bed for the cold for her sake. He had done something similar several times as he saw it was needed. A young man of pompous nature once was without a house or food. He had done the same for him as he now did for Chalandra, though he did not deserve it in the eyes of many.  
Chalandra though, she was different. She was beautiful and kind and caring. Loving and gentle and sweet. Her nature seemed perfect, yet he could feel the hurt within her. Someone had hurt her more deeply than he could understand. But somehow, he knew it was not a matter of love, for she would be spiteful, not in pain. Someone had hurt her in another way. Several times, he had seen the open palm of her hands. It was scarred and worn. Several times, he had caught of glimpse of her bare arms. They had deep crevices of flesh that receded below the normal level. Darker skin filled these canyons. They were scarred. It was his belief that she had been physically abused. But why so hurt? Why so much pain? She was safe now. No one would hurt her again, that was his promise. No, no, he felt the regret in her. He felt the fear of being abandoned, betrayed, and left, within her. He would not. Whatever she had done, she wanted to reverse it. It did not matter what she had done, he would accept her.

Chalandra sat towards the edge of the hill, with Thane seated behind. He sat with his back against the trunk of a sturdy oak, simply admiring the beauty of the one before him. Her hair billowed in the wind, flying in every direction. Slowly, the day faded into the night, and she watched as the sky became illuminated with a thousand stars. Yet even when faced with all the beauty she could ever imagine, fear gripped her. Fear that Thane had begun to love her. That, she could never allow.  
From behind her, Thane spoke: "Chalandra, you are-”  
"Do not say it, do not say it,” she interrupted, turning around to face him.  
"But you are s-"  
"No, do not dare say those words," she cut off again, looking him in the eye with a new fury when she finally understood what he felt.  
"What is wrong? How did you know what I was going to say?" he asked, his voice full of concern.  
"What race are you?"  
"I am a Dendä, you know that. Of the Water Realm."  
"I have long wondered, but now you confirm it. That is why I will not let you say it," she said tearfully.  
"Chalandra, it is nothing, only the truth.”  
"Do you not know what I am?”  
"You too are a Dendä," he replied.  
"Yes, I am. But what am I?"  
"I was going to tell you, but you interrupted me," he said, trying hopelessly to lift the mood.  
"It is only now that I truly realize what you feel for me. I cannot let you continue to feel this way. You must leave me, or I must leave you," she muttered firmly, her voice trailing off.  
"What? No, you cannot leave me, I lo-"  
"Do not say it, I beg you," she interrupted, her voice filled with pain and hurt, but her eyes brimming with tears.  
"Why not?" he asked, rather confused and unhappy at her protests.  
"Why do you think? Every Dendä knows why love would be forbidden.”  
"I do not understand.”  
Turning to look at him, she choked back her tears, insistent on being strong.  
"I am disgraced," she murmured, finally confiding with him.  
Thane stared into her eyes, the pain echoing into his gaze. His look pierced her heart; a greater agony than any before.  
"I am sorry," she said softly, looking away.  
For a long moment, he did not move. Finally, he stood and moved to sit beside her. Gently, he placed a calloused hand under her chin.  
"You are beautiful, no matter what you have done."  
"I am disgraced. No one can excuse that.”  
"I forgive it. Whatever you have done, I will forgive you, even if no one else does.”  
"Please, I ask of you, do not do this," she begged.  
"Why should I not? I love you, Chalandra, nothing is going to change that."  
"Because you have now given me a fate worse than death."  
"Through me, you may one day be restored. You know about being disgraced, and it can be reversed."  
"Or through me you may someday fall to my fate. You can also end in disgrace just as I have. Those who have been disgraced are exiled for a reason. We are worthless, that which even the earth has rejected. We have no power, cut off from it due to our crimes. While we bring no harm to the world of men, we cannot be permitted to live amongst the Dendä. I am dangerous and worthless. You must understand that," she protested, her heart ablaze with a new fire, one that burned so that he would not be harmed.  
Thane shook his head, hating whoever had forced her to believe that was to be her fate. He gently held her small hand in his.  
"I do not care what others see. I see you, and you are beautiful."  
Quickly, Chalandra pulled her hand away from his grasp.  
"Leave me alone!" she cried, tears streaming down her face.  
Thane looked at her with a heart full of grief. Whoever she was, no matter what she had done, he loved her. He did not care if the rest of society cast her off because of some ridiculous belief. He loved her, and that was all that mattered. Raising his hand and ignoring her previous demands, he lifted her chin with his hand again. Chalandra bit her lip and sniffled, keeping her gaze away from his. With his other hand, he wiped away her tears as they ran down her face.  
Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against hers. Chalandra tried to pull away in surprise, but he gently placed a hand along her chin. When he released her a moment later, she sat in shock, her entire body frozen with fear, surprise, worry, and a tiny bit of joy. Thane slowly moved his hands down to her hands, letting her skin glide under his fingertips. Taking her hands once more, he lifted them to his chest and kissed them.  
“I do not care what you have done. I do not care about your past, I care about your future. Your future with me."  
"I cannot allow you to waste your future on me. I am worthless. You need to find another worthy of your love. That one is not me."  
"Why do you consider yourself unworthy?" he asked.  
"I am unworthy to be with a man like you, can you not see that? Do you not understand why I protest? I do love you, Thane, and that is why I care."  
"Then already you defy the fate of a disgraced. Those who are disgraced are not supposed to love, their hearts are hard, and they care nothing for the lives of others.”  
"That is a story made up to keep nobles away from disgraced," she returned coldly, her fierce gaze returning to the horizon.  
"I know that well. What power were you previously?" he inquired.  
"Fire, I was a Fire,” she replied, nodding slightly.  
“Not that it changes anything, but may I ask of you, what did you do to become disgraced?”  
She took a short breath and thought for a moment.  
“I cannot say. I fell from grace without a discernible cause, though I have no doubt I have done something worthy of this punishment in my past.”  
He nodded, though pressed his lips together as he contemplated her answer. She knew he was not angry, but merely lost in thought, so she sat in silence, merely enjoying his company. Her heart fluttered in her chest, leaving her to ponder the beauty of the moment. Thane still held her hands against his chest, wrapping her small, delicate hands in his large, blistered ones. His touch was so gentle, so loving. No touch had ever meant as much as his. It was unique. Nothing she had ever felt could compare to the feelings she now had. If this was not love, she did not know what was. In that moment, she felt all her fears pass, knowing he would do whatever it took to protect her. He would never forsake her, never leave her, and never hurt her.

Once he had completed the journey back and tied off on the dock, he stepped out of the boat and leaned back over. Smiling to Chalandra, he offered her his hand and helped her out onto the wooden dock.  
"Thank you for taking me today," she said honestly, having had a rather good time save the heaviness that weighed on her heart from the truth she had finally told.  
"It was my pleasure. However, I cannot simply let you leave me now. I must walk you home," he answered.  
Chalandra looked away.  
"You know well I do not have one, as of yet," she muttered. "Do not embarrass me in this manner."  
"There is nothing to be ashamed of, however, as you were my guest today, I cannot allow you to sleep on the street tonight. It is certainly nothing a gentleman would do," he assured her, offering his arm to her.  
Smiling a little at his kindness, she took his arm and began to walk with him.  
"Look around you. This town is not a place for gentlemen to reside in," she mocked.  
"Perhaps not, but it does not mean an ordinary man cannot provide a woman with a place to stay," he replied.  
"I ask that you not give me the shame of accepting your hospitality," she requested.  
"There is absolutely no shame, especially not when it would be my pleasure. I beg you to allow me to provide you with shelter," he pressed.  
"This once only, as I will be paid soon and with that I shall move into the inn."  
"Only once? I should rather hope I was given the privilege of your company more than once," he teased, then, stopping, he turned to face her and lifted her chin, "Chalandra, look at me. With me, if with no one else, you will be safe, that is my promise.”  
"How can you care for someone without really knowing them? How do you know what I have done in the past, and how it will affect us later," Chalandra answered.  
"I know you do not understand, but I do not care. I see it in your eyes. I know you are running from a past you are ashamed of. Whatever you have done, I give you my word. I will protect you, and I will not abandon you. You run from your past, but I am not afraid of what you have done, as you seem to be. I do not know how recent this is, nor how you have been hurt, but I know you are in pain. Someday, I hope that you might confide in me, but for now, I will embrace your future without question. If you will not tell me, then let us move forward. I do not doubt that you have been hurt, and that you may have done evil. Now, I only ask that you would grant me your future. Simply, I beg that you let go of whatever crimes you have committed and whoever has hurt you," he requested as they neared his small home.  
Thane walked a few steps ahead of her and climbed the steps to his house.  
"Careful, they get icy and slick," he warned, offering her his hand as she made her way up.  
Once she was safely on the top step, he pulled the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. Pushing it open, he stood to one side and invited her inside with a gesture of his hand. She passed through the doorway, feeling enveloped by the inviting warmth the moment she stepped inside.  
"It is small, I know, but it is good enough for one," he said kindly, closing the door behind him.  
"I like it," she smiled, looking about the one room.  
"I am glad," he said, hanging his worn canvas bag on the back of one of the chairs.  
"Why is it that you live in so small a place and yet spend money so carelessly as on coats for undeserving friends?" she asked.  
"I have the money, though I choose to save it. Someday, if I am lucky, I will need it for a bigger home in which to have a family. I might be privileged enough to have a wife to care for. Then, I will need the money more than I have use of a larger house now."  
"Save your money for your wife and children, do not waste it on me," she encouraged.  
"My bedroom is at the end of the hall, to the right. I am afraid I do not have any nightclothes for you, though you are most welcome to use an old shirt of mine should you choose. I do apologize in advance for the state of my bed. I do my best to keep it neat, but it occasionally slips my mind. Are you still hungry?"  
"I am not, thank you though. As for clothes, I am perfectly accustomed to sleeping in these. However, if you intend for me to sleep in your bed, I will not allow that. I am perfectly happy on the bench, or even the floor with a blanket."  
"I insist, that as my guest, and as a woman, you get the bed," Thane pushed.  
"I do not want to make you a stranger in your own home, it is not right," she protested.  
"Please, I will not have it any other way," he insisted.  
"Thank you, not only for this, but also for everything today," she finally agreed, "However, I do have to rise early to get to Clount Farm. I do not wish to wake you earlier than need be, and I also fear I would oversleep."  
"Do not worry about me, I rise before the sun. My work does not require it, but I do so out of habit. I will wake you if you wish."  
"You are too kind to me," she replied, amazed with his continued kindness.  
"Sleep well."  
"And you," she replied, making her way back to the bedroom.

The house was small, worn down from years of use. Its’ prior owners had most likely not been kind, but it was still in fair enough shape to keep the rain out, expect for a few spots to the far left of the main room, where, evidently, water had been permitted to seep through and stain a small spot on the wood floor. From the moment the door was opened, the musty smell of damp wood, the same smell as every other building around, was the most prominent. Still, it was not the smell of rot, nor the smell of decay.  
Inside, though no one had been home for hours, it was warm. The fire had been left kindled in pit, to prevent having to relight the embers later. The fireplace was the only part of the tiny home not built of the same chestnut wood planks. Instead, it was crafted of red brick, but had since been discolored with grey ash from years of use without cleaning. Inside the fireplace was a metal stand, upon which the pot could be hung. Said cast iron pot sat to the left of the fireplace, waiting for its next usage.  
Because of the deep color of the wood, the room was dark when first entered. However, after the shutters were opened by Thane, more light and a fresh breeze was able to circulate through, causing the green and white half-curtains to blow slightly and the musty smell to lift a little, replaced with crisp air from the outside. The wall, ceiling, and floor were all crafted of wood, for the location of the town enabled wood to be easily obtained. However, it caused the wear and use to be easily noticed. For the most part, the floor was in good condition, having no spots on the carefully sanded wood which would cause a splinter to find its way into a bare foot. The roof was likewise in good shape, needing only one small repair under the thatched part of it to prevent water from seeping through. The walls, for they were not as carefully sanded, had quite a few areas where something had been removed, or bumped into, and had caused the sanded portion of the wood to flake away, revealing the lighter, splintering wood underneath visible to the naked eye.  
The furniture was rather sparse. Along the wall to the left of the door was a small square table with two chairs, which sat beneath the only other window. They were carved and sanded, made from a lighter colored wood than the rest of the home, causing them to stand out. In front of the fireplace was a rectangular woven rug, made of green and white fibers, same as the curtains. Just behind that was a little chair, upon which two could sit comfortably. It was made of woven, deep-colored wicker material, and had a thin green cushion on the seat. On the back of the chair was a worn woven brown blanket made of coarse wool. Along the right wall were several shelves, built into the wall of the house, along with several cabinets where all the food was stored.  
Although it could have been considered barren, it was not enough to feel empty. It was simply that the house was small, so there was little more to include. The only other room was the bedroom, which was connected to the main room to the left of the cupboards. It, likewise, was rather simple. It merely consisted of a bed upon a low bed frame. Nothing fancy, just enough to keep it off the floor. The mattress was worn, but not thin enough to feel the frame through it. Upon the bed, several quilts of various colors, all made of cotton and wool, had been piled in order to protect the user from the bitter cold often experienced.  
For many, it would have been found unsatisfying, for it was so simple. Yet she found nothing but warmth within the walls. There was nothing in desperate need of repair, nor did she feel the need to reorganize or rearrange it in order to provide it with a woman’s touch. For her, it was perfectly fine as it was. There seemed little need to change something that brought her such a feeling of security and warmth, and even less when the money would be better saved and used elsewhere.  
Grateful for his immense kindness, she slipped in and pulled the covers up to her chin. It had been so long, too far back for her to remember, since she had slept in a bed. It took only moments for her to drift into a sleep deeper than she had in a long time.

A mere moment later, Thane stood above her, having gently placed a hand on her shoulder.  
"Chalandra, Chalandra," he whispered, "I am sorry, but it is time to wake.”  
Blinking slowly several times as she tried to chase off sleep, Chalandra struggled to gain her bearings. Inhaling deeply, she sat up and watched him with her dazed doe-like innocence.  
"Thank you for letting me sleep here, in your bed. It was far more comfortable than I am used to."  
"It was my privilege. I cannot remember the last time I had a woman sleep in my bed, if ever," he replied, kissing her forehead.  
"Now, I am not a good cook, but I made some breakfast. Rather, I heated it up from yesterday morning, but if you would join me," he invited, offering her a hand and helping her up.  
Groggy, she followed him into the kitchen, where the smell of oatmeal filled the room. After pulling out a chair for her, he took a bowl off the counter and placed it in front of her. Steam rose from the hot, thick food. On top there was a sprinkling of sugar, a delicacy she had not seen for a long time.  
"Thank you," she breathed, her shock only being added to when he added a glass of milk and a pear to her breakfast.  
He smiled and sat down across from her with the same meal. Far too soon, their meal was gone.  
"Thank you, thank you so much. For everything.”  
"Do you need to get to work?" he asked, realizing the time was late.  
"I do," she answered.  
"Then, if you would be so kind, would you allow me to make you dinner tonight?" he inquired.  
"I cannot allow you to do so," she protested.  
"Please, it would be my honor," he requested again.  
Smiling, she nodded a little.  
"Alright," she consented.  
"Might I walk with you to get the cart? I am planning on helping you unload it anyways," he requested.  
"If you so desire to,” she answered, following him as he walked to the door and opened it, letting her through.  
Before closing it, he grabbed his satchel, then locked it behind him and assisted her down the steps, slick from the night's frost. Inside, her heart fluttered with the new acceptance of his advances. She trusted him now. He knew one of her deepest secrets and yet still wanted to be with her. No longer would she resist, she would encourage him. Finally, she had permitted herself to call it such a word, she loved him.


	7. Finding Hope

As the time they spent together increased, their fondness for each other's company likewise grew stronger. Nearly every night, Chalandra would meet Thane and they would eat dinner together. At that time, she had been paid, and now moved into the inn. However, Thane did not allow this to prevent him from pursuing her. Instead, he only used this as a way to see her more often. On most mornings, he would arrive at the inn before she woke, and wait for her to come out for breakfast. They would eat together and talk for a while before they were expected at work. After they finished, he would accompany her to Clount Farm, and then back into the village where her stand was. Once the cart was unloaded, they would go their separate ways for the time being. By the time she was done selling her goods, Thane would return to help her load the cart again, then escort her back to Clount Farm. Usually, they would have dinner together, whether at his house or at the inn.  
While at work, Thane would take his midday meal while drifting down the stream, lest they take money from him for time he was not working. Even so, he would often find his mind wandering. While doing heavy, arduous work, his mind would be elsewhere. When rowing upstream, he would often see her sitting on the front of the boat, just as she had that day when they first spent time together. She would be looking ahead, her beautiful golden locks just as nature had left them, perfect features outlined by the misty daylight. He dreamed of their future, a small wooden house, and her always standing in its doorway, waiting for him. Married and happy, in a small cottage but perfectly blissful. On occasion, he even dared to dream of a child. A child with her, if she would ever have him, would be the most beautiful thing. But for now he was happy. Even when he was tired, his work having worn him to a fault, he would cover it up for her. Her smile, her laugh, they always brightened his darkest day.  
Unlike Thane, it never crossed Chalandra's mind that he wished to spend even more time with her. She was glad of his company, and slowly was beginning to trust him. She knew in her heart that it could never happen. To ask him to give up everything was beyond unfair. Secrets untold, secrets that would hurt him more deeply then he could imagine. Some things that should not come to light, and yet were the life she lived. Though she hated herself inside, she still had outwardly accepted Thane as a companion. Sometimes, on her better days, when she allowed herself to, she would accept the term love. She did love him. The time they were together numbed the pain and masked her own self-hate. The time they were apart intensified it. Her entire life now had become a twisting mixture of joy and sorrow, love and hate. Never once did she hate Thane. She only ever loved him. Her trust had grown; she knew she could rely on him. He would not hurt her, he would not betray her, he would not abandon her. Sometimes, though she tried to prevent it, she too could imagine herself living with him years down the road. Happy together, married. No longer did she have to hate herself, nor did she have to live in fear. He accepted her for who she really was, and yet in reality he had not yet learned of her past self, the one she ran from in a time that felt like decades ago.  
Earlier in the day, Thane had requested she come to his house for dinner, which she did. Having come straight from work, her clothes were dirty, and she was rather tired. Most of the goods had been sold that day, so there was no need for him to help her reload the cart. Instead, she met him at his home. He found her sitting on the steps, waiting for him to arrive home.  
"Hello, Beautiful Light," he greeted, offering her his hand and helping her up.  
"Good evening," she answered. "How was work?"  
"Fine, as usual," he replied, unlocking the door.  
He never said much about his work. "And yours?"  
"Good, I sold nearly everything, so I packed up myself."  
"I noticed. Besides, you are getting stronger. You are not nearly as pale was when we first met, or as slender," he observed.  
Briefly, she cast her gaze down, embarrassed. Seeing her having taken that the wrong way, he frowned.  
"Not like that, in a good way. You were far too underweight," he assured her, seeing her discomfort.  
She smiled a little, though there was a hint of hurt in her eyes. Gently, he wrapped his left arm around her waist and pulled her closer. With his right hand, he tilted her chin upward.  
"I love you, you know that," he whispered, kissing her lips.  
"I know," she answered, and all was forgiven.  
She could never hold anything against him, not now. She loved him. But how could he love her without knowing her past? He knew nothing, but only made assumptions. However, instead of turning away a woman who very well could be a runaway wife, a woman who withheld her past from him, he accepted her and did not press the matter.  
"Now, would you come and eat?" he invited, holding the door open for her.  
As she passed through, she let her fingertips brush his, then took a seat on the bench, knowing he would not allow her to assist in preparing the meal. Neither of them really knew how to cook, but he was better than she. Staring into the fire, she watched the dancing flames as they reached for the sky only to fall short and plummet to earth, defeated, and in near oblivion. The creaking of the burning wood was the only thing that broke the silence. It was her peace, her comfort. She knew she was safe there, and so long as she stood under his roof or by his side she would be protected. Soon enough he would come round to put dinner on the fire, then possibly she would make conversation. For now, she simply wanted to feel safe, the sensation she had never before been gifted with; love and security. Yet her heart warned her, not against Thane, for she already knew he was above betrayal, but against the darkness she felt inside herself.  
Thane went about quietly preparing dinner. He made some flat bread and prepared a simply array of leafy greens. When he went to place the bread under the coals, he saw Chalandra sitting quietly. For a moment, their eyes met. He saw love. Love in her eyes. She smiled when he looked to her.  
He was the first person to have ever accepted her for more than a slave. He considered her his equal, but furthermore, she loved him. She honestly did. No other could she have been with naturally or trusted so purely. He had gained her trust through slow and gentle persuasion, not through force or pressure. Kindness had been the way to her heart, and it kept him securely locked there. No other man could ever tempt her into love. Rather than tear her down and pull her apart, he had built her up. He had encouraged her. His love had filled the deepest cuts made by Greneth and his years of abuse. He had healed her.  
Inside she knew there was hurt yet to come, that her own past would have to be given to him. Perhaps he could heal that too, in time. She believed, when the time was right, that he could heal that as well. If he could gain her trust, if he would accept her, he could forgive her and protect her from herself. If he truly, honestly loved her, he would overlook her wrongs. She knew he could, but fear still held her back from fully confiding in him. But she loved him, and she prayed he felt the same about her.


	8. Unearned

In the entirety of their worn down little town, there was one fine dinner place which seemed like its own world. It was on very rare occasion that a person would be treated to a night there, as their prices were high, and their space was limited. In order to dine there, a person would have to save up their wages for several weeks, and often would need to request a table months in advance. Thane invited Chalandra to a night there, much to her surprise, as it was their one-year anniversary. For the rare and special occasion, Chalandra wore her best dress, but it was hardly better than the ones she wore on a day to day basis, for she had little money to spare. It was a faded crimson one, which had most likely been quite beautiful in its day but had long since been worn out before she purchased it. It had a moderate neckline, which had a bit of worn lace to trim it. Usually, she wore her leather vest over it, but instead had washed and cleaned the old dress as best she could. Unlike most of her dresses, it had sleeves that only came to her elbows, and a much flatter skirt than she was used to, in addition to being more form fitting. As she had no spare money for new shoes, she wore her brown leather ankle boots, which she had bought when she first was paid. However, for the first time, Chalandra wore her hair down in public. She did not style it or change it in any way, but merely let her golden locks fall down her back.  
Thane arrived at the inn promptly at six, as he had said he would. He wore some newer black pants, ones she had only seen him in once or twice, and a nice navy-blue shirt. It was plain, but he looked good wearing it. Even though it was summer, and the days could get warm, the shirt was long sleeved, but loose. For shoes, he wore a pair of boots similar to his normal pair, but in better shape.  
Greeting her with a kiss, he offered her his arm and led her down the street. As they walked, he admired her beauty. She had never looked more stunning than she did that night. Her smile was bright and beautiful as they made their way down the street. The clothes were not what had made her beautiful, it was her mannerism and her smile. She was wonderful. She deserved this night more than anyone else. When they arrived, a server led them through the normal dining areas and to an outside table. Their table stood alone and under a white gazebo, illuminated by the yellow light of candles. All around their table, flowers grew in abundance and a small stream trickled by, evident by the quiet laugh of water as it tumbles over rocks.  
As they ate, the sun set and the stars rose. Under the light of the golden stars, they were served the most decadent meal she had ever eaten. After their meal was over, Thane watched Chalandra with a steady gaze.  
"Are you alright?" she asked, noticing he seemed slightly restless that night and had remained even more quiet than was his manner.  
"I am fine," he answered with a smile.  
A man came by and cleared their plates but invited them to stay as long as they wished. Thane stood and offered Chalandra his hand to help her in getting up. Taking his hand, she looked around the beautiful gardens.  
"Are we leaving?" she asked forlornly, wishing to stay a bit longer and admire the gardens.  
"No, not yet. I thought we could walk around for a while," he offered, leading her to the front of the gazebo.  
The gentle trickle of the brook in front of them broke the silence of the otherwise still night. The sight from the gazebo was stunning, extending free any form of block such as a tree to the rising stars. The light breeze played with her hair and dress, causing the candles to flicker slightly in the wind.  
Thane took both her hands in his shaking ones as he turned to look at her.  
“Are you sure you are alright? You are shaking," she asked again, concerned for his health.  
"I am fine, I assure you. Trust me," he requested.  
Once she was facing him, he let go of her hands. Looking into her breathtaking green eyes, he knelt down onto one knee. Out his pant's pocket, he took a white-gold ring. Holding it in his right hand, he held it up for her to see.  
"Will you marry me, Chalandra?" he asked with his innocent grey-blue eyes searching her face.  
Shocked, Chalandra looked at him with wide eyes, but slowly nodded.  
"Yes, Thane, yes I will," she replied, her voice breaking.  
Thane stood and took her hands again. Slowly, he slipped the ring onto her left hand. Lifting her hand up, she brought it to where she could look over the beautiful ring. The band appeared silver yet was truly white gold, smooth and without blemish. In the center of the ring, a tiny, intricate white diamond flower sat. It had five petals in total, with a very small center. When she ran her finger over the flower, she found it was encased in the ring, without any part of it rising above the ring's surface.  
"Thane, it is beautiful," she whispered, kissing his lips.  
As she wrapped her arms around his neck, she felt him place one hand on her face and the other on her back to pull her in.  
"You are beautiful, Chalandra," he answered, burying his face in her neck.  
Slowly, he moved his arms to hold her against him. He kissed her neck several times before he let her go.  
“I love you, more than anything," he said softly, tracing her arms as he moved to hold her hands.  
“I love you too," she answered, looking lovingly into her fiancé’s eyes.  
Soon after their engagement, they sat down on the stone floor of the gazebo in order to enjoy the beauty of the night while they could. Thane sat with one arm across her back. With the other, he held her hand. This was never meant to be her fate, not the life of a disgraced woman. He accepted her for what she was, flaws aside. He loved her every imperfection and treated each one as though it were a perfection. How could his heart be so great, so unlimited and without bounds that he could love her? Yet he did. Nothing felt made her feel so alive as that moment. The moment he asked her to be his own.


	9. The Hidden Truth

Two Years

Chalandra let herself into Thane's house after she was done with her work. She knew he would not mind, and that he would rather her show up there without him home than walk back to the inn and wait for him to make it home. That day, she wore her pale blue dress. It was one of only a few that she had purchased new, and only wore it on occasion. The skirt was dirty from the dusty road back to Clount Farm, but overall it was clean. The only part of the dress visible was the skirt and the sleeves, as she had worn her brown leather vest over it.  
Once inside his cozy abode, she sat at the table waiting for him. He was bringing food home with him, so she was unable to start the cooking. Hearing his footsteps as he climbed the wooden steps, she rose and smoothed her dress. Upon opening the door, he found she was already there. A gentle smile crossed his face as he closed the door behind him. Slowly, Chalandra made her way over to him. He eagerly took her into his arms, simply hugging her tightly.  
“How are you today?" he asked, kissing her head.  
"I am well. How was your day?"  
"Long and lonely," he answered with sigh.  
"Better now?" she asked, looking up at him with question.  
"That it is," he replied with a smile.  
A moment later he turned to the kitchen. Though he handed her his leather satchel, he kept the bag of food himself. Chalandra hung his bag on the hook to the far left of the door while he unloaded the food. Once she returned to his side, she was able to better look over her fiancé. The bottom of his coat was wet, suggesting he had to walk through the ice-cold stream rather recently. She noticed the same beaten look on his face that he so often had after his work but tried hard to hide from her. His mannerism was always gentle with her, even after the hardest of days, but she had seen his with others before. He occasionally lost his temper and was rather abrupt with them. In her heart, she knew he did not only act in that manner for her, but for himself. He hated it when they fought and would often spend the entire day in silence until he was sure she had forgiven him, even over the slightest disagreement.  
He gave her all he could, not matter the cost to himself. She did not realize the true extent of it, as he would never allow her to know the truth of it. His day was long and hard, more than she would ever know. By the end of the day, many of the men who had worked would collapse from exhaustion and strain, no matter how long they had been working there. When a man fell into the river, no one would save him. If he had the strength to save himself, he would live. If not, he would be left for dead. Thane had jumped after a fallen man several times and had managed to save them out of sheer strength. These heroics were few and far between though, as it was risky to try to save a drowning man in the swift current.  
His duty was to ferry the logs from the forest where they were chopped down to the mill. He first hauled the logs from wherever they were cut to the water. Once they were all by the stream's edge, he used his long metal hook to pull them in from his rowboat, or otherwise push them into the river himself. Once in the water, he was responsible to bring all of them from the forest, down four miles of stream, before dragging them into the lumberyard. Once he was successful in bringing a minimum of ten logs to the lumberyard, he rowed back upstream. Each day, he was required to bring at least four loads of logs to the mill. The first time or two was not terribly difficult, but as the day dragged on it grew harder and harder. Yet when he saw her, no matter how miserable it had been, everything became well. All his sorrows and fears melted away and he was taken by the moment.  
That was one of his greatest burdens, to constantly lie to her about his work. He was never late because he had stayed behind and talked with friends, or lost track of time, but because he was forced to stay until the day's work was complete. The only way he could console himself and justify his actions, was that it was for her. If she knew, she would never stop worrying. He did his best to hide all signs of exhaustion and strain from her, but he never thought it enough. In his mind, she always deserved better. Every so often, when she caught a glimpse of his true exhausted self, she would turn to him with concern. She would place one of her slender, pale hands on his shoulder and ask him if everything was alright. Looking to him with innocent green eyes, she would carefully search his face for every emotion.  
He would then turn to her, hug her close, and tell her he was fine. Even if everything was wrong, and his entire body ached with strain, she numbed the pain. Every moment with her was more perfect than the last. When he saw her, everything that he ever did for her became worthwhile. He gave her all he could every bit of it was worth it.

Once he had taken out a large pot, Thane began to cut up the food. Likewise, Chalandra grabbed a knife and started to cut some of the vegetables for the stew. Soon, the mixture was placed over the fire. As it cooked, the two spent some time together while sitting on his couch.  
"Are you going to stay the night?" he asked, sitting down next to her.  
"I do not know. I was not going to, but I can. You should be allowed to sleep in your bed every once in awhile, so I probably will not."  
"Please do, I would rather sleep out here with you under my roof than sleep here alone," he admitted.  
"We shall see," she answered, slipping her fingers between his.  
After a brief moment of silence, he spoke again: "Chalandra, how long have we been engaged?"  
"Not long, why do you ask?" she inquired.  
"When do you want to start planning the wedding?"  
"Oh, I do not know. I had not thought about it."  
"You have not?" he asked, slightly surprised.  
"Well, not specific details. We have not been engaged very long."  
"When do you think you will want to have it?" he questioned.  
There was a long pause before Chalandra replied.  
"I know you love me. I know you want marry me...." she finally said.  
"More than anything,” he answered wholeheartedly.  
"I know. But there is something I have not told you," she started hesitantly.  
"You can tell me anything."  
Her eyes turned to the floor. For a moment, she was silent.  
Finally, she muttered: "I doubt I will ever bear a child."  
"What?" he asked, moving away from her.  
Closing her eyes, Chalandra turned away from Thane.  
She choked on the lump in her throat but managed to keep her tears at bay.  
"I know you want children, but I can never have them."  
"Why have you not told me until now?"  
"I was afraid to lose you. I am sorry Thane, I am so sorry," she choked, trying to keep back tears.  
"I would be right leave you upon hearing such news," he reminded.  
"I know, and you would be right to. That is why I told you, for I did not wish to hide that from you any longer."  
"I should leave you, especially since you have kept this from me so long. That is something you should have told me," he said, though his voice was gentle as stood up in front of her.  
"I know, I know. I should go. You-”  
"No," he interrupted, kneeling down in front of her.  
"You deserve more," she muttered through tears as she prepared to leave.  
"If you believe that I would leave you for all this world, you do not know me at all," he said gently, caressing her cheek.  
"But the children you desire."  
"They would mean nothing if they were not born of a woman I truly love."  
"You could love another," she pressed.  
"Not after loving you."  
His voice was soft as he knelt before her, holding her hands in his. "I love you, Chalandra."  
"Does this not come as a bigger surprise to you?"  
"No. I know part of your past, and I someday hope to know it all if you choose to share it with me. I have assumed that you might be barren for quite some time now. I know you are disgraced, but I also know you were abused. While you have not yet told me this information, I can make observations. The scars on your body are proof of this abuse. Given your age, the abuse could have, and likely did, given the depth of your scars, go on for centuries. It is only clear then that you would never have a child. I am well aware that Dendä women are delicate mothers, who sometimes have difficulty bearing children when they have been raised with every comfort and protection.”  
Without a word, Chalandra sat with her head bowed. Thane's words were true, and kind, but she felt a longing in her heart. She would never give him the gift he would cherish most. She knew he loved her, and never would let her go, but a part of her felt empty.  
"Chalandra," he murmured, touching her cheek, "Dry your tears and cry no more. Let us have a good night, not one of sorrows."  
Nodding, she wiped the tears from her face and took a deep breath. For him, she would mask her pain. He deserved what he asked, especially given the acceptance he had given her. Mustering a faint smile, she looked Thane in the eye once more.  
"Thank you," she muttered, kissing his lips.  
Once their dinner of stew was ready, Thane served it to Chalandra.  
"We should eat outside," she suggested, looking to the door.  
Though she did not weep, her heart was burdened by sorrow. The feeling that she was forever indebted to him.  
"By all means," he replied, standing up from where he had knelt before the fire, removing the pot from the flames as he did so.  
The pair took their bowls outside and sat on the steps of his house, with the sun setting behind them. Thane sat in the back, on the top step with Chalandra one stair below. After dinner, Chalandra offered to do the dishes, but Thane refused, saying she was his guest, as always. As he cleaned up, she remained outside, content to watch the villagers as they strolled about the darkening streets. Soon, the sky fell dark, and the world turned to night. Finally, she stood up and strolled back inside to find Thane done cleaning.  
"Are you staying tonight?" he asked, watching her with his innocent grey-blue eyes.  
"I think I will, if you do not mind."  
"I invited you," he reminded.  
"I can sleep out here," she offered, gesturing to the little bench he usually took.  
"No, you will take the bed."  
"But you have such a long day, it is not fair that I should sleep in your bed," she protested.  
"Beautiful Light, do not fret over such trifle things. Let us instead enjoy the time that is given to us," he sighed.  
Chalandra smiled but said nothing more. As she sat with him, she thought of her past. She should tell him, he deserved to know. After all he had done for her, he should know of her past, not just what she wanted him to know. What had happened before they met, right before. He had to know what she was, and what she did in order to make it to this town. It was better she tell him now, he had accepted her in spite of everything, was that not proof that he would stay with her? And yet just inches away Thane sighed, thinking the same thing but with another situation. One he had hidden for a good reason, but one there was no reason to hide.


	10. The Unloved

Chalandra woke early that morning, only to find herself in Thane's bed as usual. The bed was low to the ground with only a thin mattress between her and the hard, wooden frame. The blankets were carefully pulled up around her. The last thing she could remember was sitting in front of the fire with Thane. She obviously had fallen asleep, lulled by the comfort of his arms and the warmth of the fire. Being the man he was, he had carried her to his bed.  
Taking one of his blankets from the bed, she pulled it over her shoulders and left the room. Once in his main room, she found him sitting on the padded bench. Yawning, he looked up  
"Good morning," she greeted, standing in the doorway.  
"Good morning," he answered, reaching one arm towards her in an invitation to come over.  
"Why is it you gave me the bed, rather than have me take the couch?" she inquired, taking a seat next to him.  
He wrapped his arm around her, then kissed the top of her head.  
"You are a lady, you deserve as much. Besides, we already discussed that last night."  
"How did you manage to get me into the bedroom without waking me?"  
"You are light, it was easy."  
For a moment, she sat in silence, thinking. His touch, it was so kind, so gentle. It brought her peace, regardless of what she believed she deserved. He always knew how to force her fears aside, and make her feel wanted. As she opened her mouth to speak, she found her heart pounding a little.  
“I was thinking for our wedding, perhaps a fortnight?” she suggested.  
“Unless you believe that to be too soon? I mean, it is a bit sudden. We only got engaged a few weeks ago, so perhaps we should wait,” she began to ramble, fearing she had suggested too soon a time.  
“Chalandra,” he interrupted, his firm voice causing her to fall silent, “If you would like, I would marry you this very day. The day you chose will be the day we marry. A fortnight is perfectly reasonable, as it gives us just enough time to make our merger plans.”  
His words instantly brought her peace, allowing her to relax.  
“Then in two weeks’ time we will marry,” she confirmed with a smile.  
The following evening, Thane was home by the time she arrived on his doorstep. As he let her in, she was greeted by the smell of cooking food. He gestured to the small table, meaning for her to take a seat. Just after she had taken her seat, he served her a bowl of stew over some rice. As she sat at his small kitchen table, she worked at the food he had given her.  
“You are a good cook, you know that?” she asked.  
“I am not all that wonderful, but it is enough, I suppose,” he answered, shrugging a little.  
“I do not understand why you always cook for me. That is supposed to be my duty.”  
“I never said that, did I?” he asked, trying to remember when he could have told her that.  
“You? No, never you, but it is the woman’s duty, generally, to cook, clean, and keep the house.”  
“Perhaps it is other women’s duty, but I take no shame in doing it for you. I do not see why you should be the one doing it whilst I sit back, expecting you to serve me. Unlike many other women, you work too, and I hardly expect that to change after we marry, only because I know you have a restless mind. I would not want that to go to waste.”  
“You are different, that much is true,” she smiled, picking up her bowl now that she was finished.  
Seeing his empty as well, she grabbed it from in front of him. As she moved to pull it away, he took hold of it, and of the bowl in her hand, standing up as he did so.  
“Come now, let me do them tonight. You made the food.”  
“No,” he said firmly, though gently, “Sit down,” he insisted, putting the bowls on the table and placing his hand on hers.  
Gently, he guided her to the couch. Reluctantly, she took a seat.  
“When we are married, which is going to be very soon, are you going to let me help you then? You cannot work all day, every day, and expect me to do nothing other than sit here and go for walks through the village and forest. I must have duties, jobs.”  
“I do not see yet what they will be, but I suppose we will work it out as we go,” he answered, gathering the dishes and taking them to the sink.  
When he was finished, he took a seat next to her on the bench.  
“So soon,” she muttered, laying her head on his chest, melting into his warmth. “So soon you are going to marry me. Are you certain this is what you wish? That I am what you desire?”  
“You are everything I could ever desire, or ever want, and more. There is no other woman in this world I would have, not since I have met you,” he assured her, kissing her head.


	11. Secrets Upon Secrets

The day of the wedding came. Thane had arranged for his friend, Ann, to come had assist Chalandra with getting ready. He had stayed at the inn, in Chalandra’s room, while she slept at his home. Out of excitement, she had risen before the dawn. From the kitchen window, she had watched the sun rise. Ann had come a few hours later, bringing some breakfast with her per Thane’s request. Though the woman had encouraged her to eat, once again, per Thane’s request, Chalandra had refused, citing nerves as her reason.  
As Ann ran the brush through her hair, Chalandra could feel the woman’s boney fingers working through her locks. Her touch was nonetheless gentle and rather soothing.  
“What is the matter, my dear? A bride is supposed to look happy on her wedding day,” the woman crooned, seeing her frowning in the mirror.  
Pulled back from her thoughts, Chalandra smiled a little.  
“Oh, no, I am fine, really. I am happy,” she insisted.  
“Yet you do not look it. What bears on your mind?”  
“It is nothing, really. I am happy.”  
“Thane is a good man, dear, one who will care for you fairly and justly all the days of your life. He loves you a lot, you know.”  
“I do, he has never failed to make that known to me,” Chalandra responded, shaking her head.  
“Why do you frown? He will take care of you. There is not a need for worry or fear.”  
“No, no, it has nothing to do with him.”  
“Then what causes you to be sorrowful on your wedding day?” Ann asked, her gentle fingers continuing to work through Chalandra’s golden locks.  
“I suppose it is myself.”  
“You have a hard past, I know that much. But Thane will not judge you for it. He will always protect you.”  
“It has nothing to do with him. It is all about my past. The choices I have made, that I regret. I do not deserve any of this. Not happiness, not protection, not shelter or food. I have made wicked choices, things I never wish to bring to light again, yet I know I someday must. And they hurt. They hurt so deeply and so freshly that I can hardly believe I stand here today. I have seen sorrows, and I never wish to burden another with my past. I never want to force someone else to partake in my misery. Or to become privy to the things I wish I had not done. The things I should not have done,” she explained. “I just fear that all of this will disappear so quickly. That I will stand judgement before all for my crimes. I do not deserve this, happiness. I have rightly earned being cast aside with the beggars and thieves. Yet here I am, about to be married. If only he knew what I had done, he would regret every moment. And I am so afraid. I know it will catch up to me, it is only a matter of time.”  
“I don’t think that is true. Look at you, such a pretty, delicate young thing, believing you have done some horrible wrong. I don’t think it matters though. He will accept you for what you are. He will stand by you no matter what you have done. There is no need to be afraid, for he will protect you. He is a strong man, and he will not allow any harm to befall you.”  
“Thank you,” she muttered, turning to the woman, “You are very kind, even if you do not know all I have done. Thank you for your comfort.”  
Once her hair was done, Ann helped her into her dress. It was long sleeved, close-fitting, with a lace overlay. Ann carefully helped her to keep her short train clean and they made their way to the inn, the same place where they had been engaged, in which they were now to be married.  
There was a short length of white fabric serving as a pathway, which had been scattered with purple and white flowers. On either side, there were short candles, all lit. It was simple, yet she could not have asked for a more perfect ceremony for the two of them. They would be married under the gazebo in which he had proposed to her, which had been trimmed with flowers for the occasion. While she waited for Thane, she took a seat just inside, anxious, but knowing it was not yet time.  
And she waited. The time came and went, yet he never came. In distress, she stepped outside, and walked up to the gazebo, and, heartbroken, looked around at the beautiful gardens before sinking to her knees. It was now nearly three hours after he was supposed to come, and the weather no longer held out. Rain began to fall, just as her tears began to pour out.

The rain fell softly onto the earth, long since having extinguished the candles. Chalandra sat on the damp grass, her legs folded under her. Her dress was stained by the grass, mud, and ruined by the rain, but she could not care. She had spent several hours on her hair the night before, making it wavy and sleek enough to reflect the sunlight. Now, it hung down her back in darkened, wet strings. Yet she could hardly care. Her eyes were fixed on the ground, on the wilted, water-ruined bouquet of bright purple and blue wildflowers she had gathered and tied together with a purple silk ribbon, only to later discard at her feet. She did not care. As far as she could tell, she never would again. Her eyes had only ceased to shed tears because there were no more tears to be shed. In just a few hours, she had cried more tears than she had ever before, more than ever when she was taken from her home, more than when her parents were killed. For she had been wholly and truly abandoned. It was her wedding, and Thane had never come. Yet she could not fault him, for she knew it was only a matter of time before her happiness disappeared, just as swiftly as it had come.  
Sometime in the midst of her grief, the few people who had come to attend the wedding had dispersed. Some offering her condolences, some muttering something about her being obviously spoiled goods if a good man such as Thane would leave her on her wedding day. Yet they all left, one after the other. Left her to her sorrow, her lament. For he had not come.  
Without warning, over the gentle patter of the rain, she heard footsteps. Looking up for the first time in hours, she saw the brooding shape of Thane. Sniffling, she wiped her face, for her heart leapt. He had come for her after all. It was only then she saw who followed in his wake. It was the Dendä guard, they had come for her. They finally had found her. Her heart sank ever further in her chest, knowing what her fate was.  
Blinking back the tears which once again found their way to her eyes, she staggered to her feet, her legs having grown numb from sitting for so long. He did not step forward to help her, he let her stumble. He did not rush to her side. Instead, he remained with the guard, every step as even and emotionless as the previous. Each as steady and rhythmic as the prior. There was no sign of happiness on his face, only restrained, controlled anger. He was forcing himself not to react, at least not yet. Head hung low, she let her eyes fall to the ground once more, finding it easier than trying to look him in the eye, for there was nothing save for a void of all emotion. He knew of her shame now. He would cast her aside, all previous promises of love and forgiveness so far a distant memory. He would hate her, for he knew of the sins of her past.  
When he drew near to her, she lowered her head a little further and closed her eyes. Pressing her lips together, she was prepared for his words of anger. Swallowing hard, she tried to prepare herself for the harshness to come. They would take her away, they would kill her. As he drew near his dull footsteps drew ever heavier, before they stopped, several feet away from her. His hair, thoroughly soaked with the rain, had obviously been pulled back, rather neatly, for his wedding day. The guard had found him on his way to her, most likely. His clothes were drenched, as he had been out in the rain for some time, but they were still far nicer than what he usually wore. He was ready to bind himself to her, yet the sins of her past had finally found her. She would face her fate after all. Had she been smarter, less love-stricken, she would have run. She would have fled much farther than this, but she had been cared for, and that was a temptation she had never encountered before. And so, she would face her demise.  
“I can tell by the fear so obviously controlling you that what they tell me is true,” he accused, seeing her lowered head and miscast gaze.  
His voice was flat, without emotion. No love or sense of caring, nor any anger. Her heart thudded in her chest, racing faster than ever before, for she was now forced to admit to the one she loved her crimes. Her sins. Shakily, she nodded.  
“I told you not to associate with me,” she muttered, fighting the sobs that would soon rack through her body.  
“Give us a moment,” he commanded the guard.  
He was usually so respectful, yet now, his voice was firm, leaving no room for debate on the subject. To her surprise, the guardsmen turned to leave when he gestured to the gate leading outside of the courtyard.  
“Yes, my-”  
Thane raised his hand, cutting off whatever the man was going to say.  
As the guard, perhaps eight or nine men strong, disappeared, he remained silent. Chalandra squeezed her eyes shut again, knowing his anger was just, yet likewise knowing her future. It was not death, she feared. It was this very moment. The one that she was faced with now. When she had to look Thane in the eye and admit to her crimes. To her shortcomings. To her past. She never wanted to see him stop loving her, but that was what he was about to do.  
“Look at me,” he said calmly.  
Immediately, her eyes filled with tears, and a sob managed to find its way through her body. She trembled for a moment, not from the cold, but from the pain. The pain that was tearing itself through her body.  
“I said look at me!” he repeated, his voice filled with rage and hate.  
That was what she had feared. Frantic and terrified of the wrathful man she knew he could be, she lifted her head and opened her eyes. Tears poured out the sides of her eyes, carving new paths down her face.  
“I was ready to bind myself to you, to pledge my entire being to you, and you never told me!” he screamed.  
He had never raised his voice to her before, not in this manner. The very sound of it made her tremble with fear.  
“You were going to let me live with you, to share your bed, and planned on never sharing this with me! Did you believe your past would never catch up?”  
“I do not know. I prayed it would not, yet I believe I always knew it would,” she sobbed, succumbing to her grief and fear, “But I knew I could not face seeing you like this. Seeing me for the fallen creature I have become.”  
“You thought you would simply live your life, in hiding, using me to shelter your shame? Did you even think of what would happen to me if your shame was found out? About how people would see me if they found out I had been married to you?”  
“I do not know,” she pleaded again, realizing there was nothing to say, “I wanted to tell you so many times, so many. But I never could. I could not face losing you.”  
“So, what they tell me is true then?” he asked again.  
“Yes, it is true, though I am not proud of what I have done. It was wrong,” she cried, trying to bury her face in her hands.  
Enraged, he took hold of her by the front of her dress, drawing her up so she was forced to look him in the eye. Terrified, her breath came in short gasps.  
“I said look at me!” he screamed, shaking her once, “You were a prostitute!”  
“What?” she gasped, trying to understand what he meant.  
“I…” she stuttered, trying to find the words but finding her mind now failed her.  
“You were a filthy prostitute who killed a one of her customers because he threatened to tell on you! Because you were afraid of the fate I will not ensure! You tried to kill his wife too, but she chased you away!” he shrieked, his words piercing her to the heart.  
He shook her again, his fury, like no other, causing her to tremble with fear. This was what she never wanted to face.  
“I… I never….” she begged, fearing for her safety now.  
“Do not lie to me!” he screamed, lashing her hard across the cheek with the back of his right hand.  
Shocked and hurt, she cried out a little, but tried to muffle the sound when she realized what had happened.  
“I swear to you, I never-”  
“Do not lie to me!” he cried again, shoving her roughly to the ground.  
She landed roughly in the mud, her dress further ruined, but that hardly mattered to her now. Defeated and afraid, she pulled herself away from him, just a little, and hide her face with her hands, crying profusely. Her face stung, but nothing stung more than the betrayal. She had committed wrongs, but not what she was now standing accused of. If could have at least listened to her, yet some distorted version of the truth had tainted his mind, bringing out the rageful anger that lay beneath. Shaking, she fought to steady her nerves. Slowly, she moved her hands away from her bruising face. For a moment, as she looked up to him, though unable to look him in the eye, she was able to steady her sobs.  
“Please-” she murmured.  
“Be silent!” he barked, taking a step towards her, fists clenched.  
“Please, if you ever loved me, give me a swift, merciful death. Do not let me die in agony amidst the jeers of a hundred thousand voices,” she pleaded, knowing she would be beaten to death publicly, as was the custom when dealing with traitors, prostitutes, and those who slaughtered innocents.  
“Why should I?” he asked, challenging her.  
“I have committed wrongs, that I know, but I have not done the half of what I am accused of. I understand you do not wish to hear me out, and I do not ask you to, but I ask you give me this. Know, that although my crimes are horrid and unforgivable, I was not as wicked as they claim I was,” she begged.  
“No. You may continue to beg for your life if you so choose, or rather, for your death, but I feel no love, nor attachment to a woman who committed so many crimes. I will not pardon you, I will not give you mercy. I will ensure your death is as slow, and painful and it possibly can be,” he swore.  
She had dreamed of her wedding day with him, but this was hardly the kind of vow she was hoping he would make. Realizing he meant his words, she lowered her head once more, finding nothing better than to fix her eyes on the ground. A moment later, the guard returned, with Thane heading them once again. As they approached her, one man stepped forward.  
“You, Chalandra, stand accused of crimes against the kingdoms. By the authority of Alya, High King, and Thane, Captain of the Guard and future King,” the man began.  
Shocked, she felt a wave pass through her body, causing her to freeze. What this man was saying, it could hardly be true.  
“I am taking you into custody, where your case will later be brought before the peacemakers. Your fate will henceforth be decided from there.”  
As two more men approached her, shackles in hand, she did nothing more than offer them her wrists. They roughly bound her hands, sparing no mercy for a woman accused of such crimes. Questions spun through her mind, but not a single answer presented itself. Thane, he was not like other Dendä, he was surely not a king. Yet these men, they accepted him as their leader. They respected and honored him. No one explained to her who had accused her to having been a prostitute, yet they treated her as one. They showed her no mercy, nor spared her any hurt. They wanted her to suffer.  
She did not care what happened to her, nor what her horrific fate was to be. In all her hurt, there was one more blow to strike her down. As she was being dragged behind the horses, forced to walk with the caravan, she began to notice something. Thane was accepted into their guard without question, and they hailed him. Every person there called him lord. He was not an ordinary person, he was their ruler. Yet even now, that did not matter. She let them take her, she let them. They were cruel to her, they slapped her, kicked her, dragged her behind the horses, it did not matter. Her will was gone.


	12. Schandea

The journey back to the palace she once ran from was long and hard. Her feet were bleeding when they finally returned, and she had been given no food nor water. It did not matter, she had no will against it. Once she was inside the palace, she was dragged down below, away from the light. Thane stood by, emotionless as she was taken away. He shook his head, and turned away as she looked back to him, her face beginning to bruise.  
She was taken down the hall, then shoved into a small room. There was a single man inside. He looked her over and shook his head.  
“Prostitute," he muttered, raising his chin.  
His dark hair indicated him as an Air Dendä, known for their dry and self-absorbed personalities. Annoyed, he stood and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. With a slight smile, he dragged her over to the chair by a small desk. Scoffing at her, he pushed her down into it.  
He bent over and took her right foot, pressing it against the chair leg. Without warning, he tightly fastened a leather strap over her ankle, then the other.  
"What are you doing?" she asked, slightly panicked.  
“Prisoners are to remain silent," he barked, trying to take her right hand.  
Angry and confused, she fought him until he finally forced her hand down and tightened the buckle over it.  
"Tell me what you are doing!" she ordered, her voice filled with anger.  
"You are to be forever marked for your crimes," was all he said, strapping down her other hand after he pulled up the sleeve of her dress.  
This arm had two straps, one right below her elbow, the other right above her wrist, forcing her arm up and exposing her soft under skin. It was strapped sideways to the table itself, instead of the chair.  
"What? For crimes I did not commit? I killed a man, yes, but I never was a prostitute," she shot.  
"That is not for me to decide," he said coolly, taking a long strip of cloth off of the table.  
Without a word, he forced it into her mouth and tied it tightly around the back of her head. She tried to protest but was unable to with her gag. From the table, he grabbed a small knife and a stone. His hands were clearly conditioned to the job, as he was able to sharpen the knife very quickly. Finally, he bent down and looked over her skin. Raising the knife, pressed its edge into her skin and began to carve. She tried to call out, but her screams were muffled by the cloth. Throwing her head back in pain, she sobbed against the cloth, her spit rolling out of the corner of her mouth. Her tears fell quickly as he wrote on her arm. Every curve, every line, was agony. It seemed like hours, but he finally finished writing on her flesh. She dared not look, for whatever he wrote she would bear as a sign of her crimes until the end of her days in the very near future. Before she even raised her head, he began to sprinkle salt into the lines of her wound. It would never heal, no matter how long her days might be. Still, she tried to cry out, the stinging of the knife now amplified by the burning of the salt.  
Finally, she forced herself to look, now that he had finished. Schandea. Murderer, prostitute, traitor, disgraced. One word in the Dendä tongue that encompassed all four. They had another word for those who were disgraced, but this was one intended to harm. To hurt her every time she looked. To drive the knife deeper into her heart. It was not even written in Dendä runes, but in the fallen tongue of men. It only served to prove to her how horrible she really was. She was forever branded.


	13. The Despised

Thane stormed down the hallway, towards Chalandra. His heart was full of rage, hate for what she had done and lied to him. Then he saw her. She was tethered to two tall wooden posts, chained by the wrists to the towering structures above. The chains gave her plenty of slack, as she clearly had no intention of escaping. The cell was simply a barren room, guarded at all times On the floor she sat, her head bowed, golden hair veiling her face, her legs tucked underneath her. She was still wearing the same clothes was when they took her, her wedding dress, having been given nothing in which she could change into. Now, the dress was covered in dirt and spotted with her blood. The guards were ruthless. She was to be executed, so there was nothing stopping them and no one protecting her. A singular ray of sunshine poured in from the small window so high above, shedding light onto the downfallen woman he once loved.  
"So, this is how we end then. Me awaiting my execution, and you the one having put me here," she muttered softly upon his entrance.  
Though he told himself again and again she never loved him, though he told himself he could never love her again, sympathy for her caused him to pause. After only a brief moment, it passed, replaced by the hate. Stepping into the main room, he waved his hand to the guard to signal that he wished to be alone. Standing partially in the shadows, he watched her. She did not move as the guard left, nor give any additional acknowledgement when he entered.  
"To think that this was your true self, and that all you told me was a lie. This is where you really belong, is it not? This is where you shall end too, locked in a prison cell, away from the earth. But you have always known it was to end this way, have you not? You always have known you deserve this fate," he mocked though he kept his tone very diplomatic and civil.  
Too ashamed to answer, Chalandra kept her silence though she longed to speak to him.  
"Do you think I have come here to rescue you? Your servant price able to save you at your hour of need?"  
Through her eyes remained downcast, she replied: "So now you confirm it, your true self. Their prince. However, I know all too well that it is indeed the opposite. I should hope that my fate is now sealed."  
"Yes, it is. I made sure of that. You are to be beaten to death for murder in two weeks’ time."  
"I would have it no other way," she answered, smiling sadly as she looked up at him, though avoiding his eye contact.  
"For the world has scorned me and abandoned me. It gave me freedom, just a taste. It gave me love, just an instant. Then it ripped it away. Tore it from my very hands," she muttered, looking down into her swollen palms, "And life goes on as it always has. I have been rejected by the world, so I shall end, rejected by the world and forgotten."  
"You welcome this fate?" he asked.  
"Why should I not? My punishment is to be just. I have done wrong, though not what I am accused of, my crimes are not excusable, and for that I will face the consequences, without fear, but with the relief of knowing that I no longer am forced to dwell in a world that hates me. Our time together was greater than I ever imagined, Tha..." she started.  
"My lord," she corrected. "And I do not regret it, even if you hate me. It was more than I should ever hope to have dreamed of."  
Taken back by her words, Thane walked slowly to the right, circling around her. Once again, she bowed her head, likely out of respect for him.  
"Words of such wisdom from such a low class," he taunted, his tone condescending towards her.  
"You believe that because now my past wrongdoings have come to light that I am a different person? I am the same woman that you claimed to have loved," she replied softly.  
This time, it was Thane who bowed his head.  
"I did love you. I trusted you, like I had never trusted anyone before, and it was through you that I felt freedom. Then it turned out that you betrayed me, and that all I have fallen for was a lie," he confessed, barely able to speak the words through his gathering tears.  
"Not everything. I loved you, and that was never a lie. I told you so many times not to associate yourself with me. I say it again, my lord, this time I beg it. Do not spend time lamenting a woman who committed so many crimes, do not weep in my passing. My fate is sealed, let it be carried out. I do not try to delay it, nor stay death's hand, I welcome it. The time I had with you was a blessing like no other, but now my time has come. You need not remember the time we shared, simply find another. Someone worthier of your love, and someone equal to you, not inferior. Someone who has nothing to hide, and loves you beyond everything," she encouraged, lifting her tear-filled gaze to meet his eyes.  
Stepping forward, Thane reached out a hand to her. On her cheek was the bruise from when he had struck her. No matter what she had done, not matter how much she had lied, his compassion and love for her was still alive within him.  
"How will I ever be able to trust you?" he asked, looking down to her and extending his hand towards her.  
In this action, she saw his love for her was still alive.  
"You never should of, and you never can," she begged, seeing a spark of fondness, dare she say it, love, in his eyes.  
With that, he was gone. Down the hall, disappearing from her sight. And she was once again left alone to feel endless remorse for her actions. Through ceaseless torment, Thane suffered, plagued by grief and sorrow. To follow his duty to his kingdom and rank, or to Chalandra. Day and night, he held vigil, eating and drinking nothing. Now was the only time he had. The last chance to make his choice.


	14. Justice and Truth

For the next five days, Chalandra was offered nothing. Not food, nor water, nor a place to sleep. She was left to ponder the heinous deeds that were her crimes until the time of her execution. Near noon on the sixth day, only eight days left on this earth, Thane came again.  
"Why have you returned?" she asked immediately upon his entering, this time meeting his gaze with unwavering steadiness.  
"I want to know."  
"Anything now. I have nothing more to hide," she replied softly.  
"Why did you kill him?" he inquired.  
"Do you hope to ease your conscience knowing that you were right in sending me for execution? Or do you look to pardon me?"  
"Both."  
"I have no interest. I committed my crimes, and now I pay. I will not try to justify my wrongdoings."  
"Please, Chalandra," he pleaded.  
The way he said her name. It held the same love in it as it had before.  
"Did you ever love me? If you did, please tell me why you killed him."  
"I killed Greneth, that was his name, because he brought home another woman," she answered.  
"Jealousy?" he asked, obviously confused.  
"Like I could ever be jealous of such a man," she scoffed with a mocking laugh, her fierce eyes locking onto his for a brief moment, then falling to the stone again, "He was terrible to me. I did not want her, so young and unspoiled to suffer my same fate."  
"What did he do to you?" he pressed.  
"When he first purchased me?"  
"You were a slave? Slavery is illegal!" he interrupted  
"You knew I was abused, slavery was always a possibility,” she reminded, “I was taken from my home when I was young, only forty. My parents were ambassadors to villages of men. My father died before my birth, killed in the street like a dog. My mother though, was threatened several times. Eventually, men looted our home and burned it to the ground. They killed my mother before my eyes and took me. I was held alone, in the dark, for a hundred years. When I was old enough to be sold at a fair price, I was sold at auction. He purchased me and took me to his home when I was nearly a hundred and fifty. For a few weeks, he was very kind towards me, too kind. It was later revealed to me, by him, that he wished to make me his wife. I refused, as I was far too young, and he was a disgusting man, even before he began to mistreat me. In anger, he attempted to rape me. I fought back, the last time I had any power. With it, I burned his hands. Immediately, he retaliated and beat me. After that, I spent the rest of my life locked up, with his constant beatings, away from the light. I killed him because he was going to force that girl to marry him, or she would end up like I had. When I saw her, so innocent, I had to prevent her from the same fate. I killed him, and ran to the village, where we met. It would seem as though she has now taken advantage of being a witness and is using me to get sympathy and revenge."  
As she told her story, Thane moved closer and closer until he was kneeling before her. Gently, he placed a hand on her cheek.  
"I am sorry. You will be pardoned immediately. This is my fault, please, forgive me!" he begged, placing one hand on her upper arm and letting his head droop as he looked down in shame.  
"My story is no grounds to pardon me, I still killed a man," she protested.  
"Yet you did not slaughter innocents as I moved to portray you before the peacekeepers," he wept, tears falling onto her lap, "You killed rightly, as he would have kept her as a slave likewise.”  
He bowed his head to her and let his forehead press lightly against hers though his eyes fell to the floor.  
"No killing is rightful as it is not our place to choose whether we let others live or die. If we had that power, we would be monsters," she replied sharply, pulling away from him and avoiding his gesture of love and intimacy.  
"What was he going to do with you, had you not ended the time of that monster?" he inquired, looking up to her with tear brimmed eyes.  
Turning her gaze away, she looked to the floor with sorrow and rage intertwined.  
"He intended to kill me," she answered, "So I cut his throat before he had the chance to corrupt that girl. She was the one who lied, who told you a was a prostitute. I will never understand why, but I believe she merely wanted revenge. She thought Greneth would be kind to her."  
He raised his hand to her cheek once more.  
"I know that your actions weight heavily on your heart, but I cannot allow you to be killed, especially not under the circumstances. Even if you were not the woman I care for, I would not allow you to face execution. I would ensure all charges were excused for anyone in the same position as you."  
"I ask you to let me go. There is nothing more for you to do. I do not seek pardon, for I am finished with this life and all the suffering I have seen."  
"By law, taking the life of another in defense of the innocents, or even in self-defense, is legal."  
"Why do you believe I did not tell you my tale before? I knew you would pardon me, for I know you to be a good and just man, but I did not want that. I will answer for my crimes. Being legal does not make it right.”  
"Perhaps not, but given the information you have just told me, he would have been killed in the same manner you were to be killed. He held slaves, made an attempt to rape you, tried to force you to marry him, and intended to kill you. In fact, you likely gave him a more merciful and swift death. Our kingdoms are especially hard on people like him. He would have been killed as slowly and painfully as possible, even worse than your fate, for having done such terrible things. I myself would have made sure of that. I know you can never forgive yourself, or see your actions right in your mind, but do me one thing."  
"What?" she asked, though her tone showed little care.  
"Let yourself live. I can only imagine what you may intend to do upon your release here, and I beg you not to. I can see a different side of you in your eyes and it terrifies me. If you will not think of yourself, think of me. Of what it would do to me."  
"I am being released then?"  
"I, Thane, high prince and future king of the Dendä kingdoms hereby grant you, Chalandra, full pardon of the crimes you committed in self-defense and in defense of the innocents," he announced.  
Without another word, he unshackled her. She paused, then rubbed her chafed wrists. Smiling at her, he reached into his pocket and took her left hand.  
"If you will still have me, after I have committed so many wrongs against you."  
Lowering her eyes, she shook her head slightly.  
“I forgive you, I truly do, yet I cannot go with you and become your wife. Not now,” she muttered, gently closing his fingers around the ring, “If only I could.”  
He nodded a little, though his heart sank in his chest. He knew it was a possibility, for he had wronged her in unthinkable ways. Yet he had held out hope she would forgive, for he knew she did not believe she held value.  
“I understand,” he answered softly, his voice barely above a whisper, “I have hurt you, I have scorned you. You deserve a man who would have trusted you more than I. One who would not have doubted your honesty.”  
On her left cheek, there was small scab in the center of a fading bruise. Reaching out, he tried to run his fingers along it, to comfort her. To his surprise, she turned her head away.  
“I am so sorry,” he said again, lowering his head.  
“I do not hold your actions against you. They were justified.”  
“Striking a woman is never acceptable, even in rage.”  
“That is not the reason,” she argued, her eyes now refusing to look upon his face.  
He could see they brimmed with tears, though he had pardoned her and given her life back to her.  
“You know the truth now,” she sighed. “I cannot bear to be with you so long as you know.”  
“I look upon you no differently, if that is what you fear. I shall treat you with the same love and respect. It will not be in the back of my mind when we argue, how you did what was required. The only thing that will remain of this incident will be the reminder that I can be a vengeful, rageful man, and that I hurt you. I will never let that happen again.”  
“I know. But you will not have to worry about it with me, for it will not be me you argue with,” she answered firmly.  
He looked her over again, realizing the depth of his loss. Her wrists were raw and chafed. He reached out to touch them, to clean them, to bind them, yet she only pulled them away. Letting out a deep breath and nodding, he rose to his feet and offered her his hand. She ignored it, but instead stood without his assistance. Once on her feet, she stumbled, having been seated for so long. Instinctively, he reached out, catching her arm before she fell. The moment she had balanced herself, she shoved his hands away, making it clear she did not want his help. Rejected, he withdrew his hands, though his gentle eyes continued to watch her.  
“I will respect your choice, if this is truly what you want.”  
“It is,” she answered coldly, refusing to meet his gaze, or even look to him.  
His eyes scanned her body. She had been treated roughly, cast to the ground and shoved about. They had shown her no mercy, nor felt any remorse, for the believed her to be the lowliest of scum. As his eyes made their way up her tattered dress, he saw the blood stains on her left inner arm. They had marked her. Carved her sins into her flesh, never to heal. She would bear the scar unjustly for the rest of her days. But now, it was likely painful and fresh, bleeding freely and caked over with scabs.  
“Though our relationship will not be the same, I ask that you might allow me to care for you until you return to the life you so choose.”  
Taking a deep breath, she nodded, offering her consent. Gesturing for her to walk in front of him, he escorted her from the vile place.

Thane led her through the splendid halls, allowing her to take her time and admire the beauty he knew, under other circumstances, she would marvel at. However, she was in no mood to wonder. Instead, she walked in silence, her eyes barely glancing away from the path directly ahead. Finally, the reached a door, which he led her through.  
"These are my private quarters," he explained.  
The room was vast, and much nicer than the small home he had resided in at the village.  
"How is it that you left this beautiful palace in exchange for such humble livings?" she inquired, trying to keep her mind occupied.  
"I have never felt at home in this place. Look at me. I do not look like the others, nor do I think like them, this you know. They did not want me to leave, as they wished to throw their daughters into my path. Even though I am of status, I have never belonged. That is why I left. Yet that is irrelevant. You will return to your life, and I to mine. Now please, come and sit with me on the balcony. You must be starving."  
Leading her outside, she was astounded to find a balcony overlooking the gardens. It reached out in a circular manner, made of pure white marble, with a matching railing. The sky had turned to orange and red flames, illuminating the air with a pinkish hue. Walking to the edge of the railing, she leaned onto the cool stone. Below the smell of flowers drifted up in the gentle breeze. Likewise, she could hear the trickle of water from the riches below, intertwined with birdsong, leaving her feeling ever more peaceful. Thane soon joined her and touched her raw wrists.  
"I am sorry," he murmured to himself, inadvertently promising never again to do something so terrible.  
Taking her hand, he noticed spots of blood on her white sleeve, on the inside of her arm. He reached out to touch it, but she pulled it away, pulling down the sleeve a little.  
"Let me see," he muttered, trying again to take her hand.  
She stepped back, just a half step, trying to evade him.  
"No, please do not," she requested.  
As loving as he was, he was also rash. Impulsively, he grabbed her hand. Though she tried to pull away, he held her fast. She was not frightened, but upset. With his other hand, he pulled up her sleeve. Seeing the writing, he dropped her hand, then backed up to the edge of the railing.  
"I am so sorry," he muttered, his eyes brimming with tears again, "Please forgive me."  
Chalandra smiled, just a little, realizing his honest dedication to her.  
"I know, but we all do things we later regret. Your actions were justified given the circumstances, I would have acted the same way," she answered, though there was pain in her voice.  
He knew this was not easy for her either, for he knew she was loyal in love.  
"But you did not. I held things from you too, secrets that I should have confessed to you. I did not tell you I was the prince, or future king. That is just as wrong, is it not?"  
"Perhaps in some manner of speaking, yes, save your secrets were good, and mine were not. I committed great crimes, and I am no longer afraid to speak of it. You, likewise were wrong in keeping your real identity from me. However, I may justify your actions in the fact that I would never have allowed you to pursue me had I known your true identity. For me, there is no justification of my past life. However, please do explain to me what a prince was doing in a town so humble?" she purposed.  
No matter how hurt she was, she was trying to bring him ease.  
"As I told you, I left behind the life I scorned. I do not care for great palaces or power-hungry nobles. Early in my life, I went to war. I became a captain. For all the years of my youth I led armies. I protected our people from any threats that may have risen. I was the one who led warriors when our people were attacked. For a long time, that was enough for me, to secure our lands. But after my sister was killed in battle, or otherwise taken by their ranks, I changed. My mother died giving birth to her, and I loved her so dearly. To imagine what they might have done to her if she were not killed, but taken... I cannot even imagine that. After that, I turned to a different path. I worked to prevent the capture of Dendä women, specifically when the young were captured and forced into slavery. It is forbidden within the Dendä kingdoms, but that does not prevent it entirely, as you have seen. Our laws were not well enforced, so I took it upon myself to see that they were. For a long, long time, I worked for that. But seeing so many horrors, that is harder than war. To see what they did to these women, it was unnerving. Finally, my father grew impatient and tried to make me settle down and marry a Water Lord's daughter. Vistrilna was her name. Yet I could never marry such a despicable woman. That was when I entered the town. I was better suited to the quiet life, the hard-working life, then I ever will be to this life of wealth,"  
They moved to the table on the balcony upon which was laid out a dinner like none Chalandra had ever had before. It was an endless array of fruits, vegetables, bread, cheese, meats, and other decadent foods. They sat in silence as Chalandra watched the quiet whispers of nature and the reflection on marble that is so perfectly reserved for nighttime. Eventually, she drifted off, having not slept since she had been taken by the guard.  
When he was certain she slept soundly, he lifted her into his arms. Though she had rejected his offer of marriage, he knew she would not mind, for he had done the same so many times before. Carefully, so not to disturb her slumber, he carried her to his bed. There he lay her, pulling the covers up around her small frame and placing her head on his pillow. It had been a long time since he had slept in a bed like that, and he did not mind giving it to her. Instead, he took the day bed against the far wall. It was the watching of her slumber that soon led to him likewise being claimed by the dreamworld.


	15. Outcast of Society

The following morning, when she woke, she said little and hardly even looked at him. Finally, she sat down on the day-bed across from him, her piercing green eyes refusing to look away. They saw through him, through to his very core. They always had. Even before she knew the truth, she had always seen him for who he was. It was hard to look her in the eye sometimes, despite her inherent beauty. She had seen through all his lies, all his deceptions. She had cut through his façade. It was in her eyes he saw his own future, for within the black boundaries was a universe. It was all that ever was and all that ever would be. He had seen his life, his future, their lives, entwined.  
Yet now, they stripped away his barriers. They cut through his walls. They left him exposed. He was forced to speak only the truth, and to be subject to her musings. Though she had made her choice, had decided she could not accept him any longer, he wanted her.  
“Please, give me a reason for this. You cannot tell me it is for the best yet not explain why. I know I wronged you. I know I hurt you. I only ask your forgiveness, for I want to have you back, more than anything else.”  
“I know,” she answered softly, her pale face framed with her golden, sun-wreathed hair, “Yet this is not something I can change.”  
“This is your choice. I will not force you, but I ask that you consider. Consider taking me back, though I have betrayed you.”  
“This has nothing to do with you,” she repeated, her loving eyes darting across his face, “Another world, another time, but not us, not now.”  
“Tell me why,” he requested, desperate for an answer.  
“Must I explain to you what you already know?” she asked, smiling sadly.  
“We are from different worlds. You were born to this life, to the life of comfort and enough. You need not work a day in your life if you choose not to. I do not deny that you worked hard for everything you had in the town, but the moment you decided you had enough, you could come back to all this,” she reminded, gesturing to the room around her, “No one would think a thing of it, because this was all waiting for you whilst you were out pretending to live another life. You were born to this. You are the heir to the throne.”  
“I know, I am well aware of what I was born into.”  
“Then look at me. I was born into poverty. I never knew my father, he died before I was born. My mother fought to raise me, but I was lost before I got to know her. I had to kill a man to gain my freedom while you had every opportunity and option before you. I fought for every day, while you were given everything. You believe we can bridge that gap?”  
“I do.”  
“How do you propose we cross that bridge when it has been ingrained in our society for thousands of years?” she asked, shaking her head, “Do not say love, for although I believe love is powerful, it is not powerful enough to break the bounds of society that have become its very core.”  
“I understand you are afraid, for my people have not always looked kindly upon those of lesser elements,” he acknowledged.  
“Looked kindly? No, they have not indeed. They could not care less if my people lived or died. There is no such thing has kindness to my kind. And I have come from the very lowest of my kind.”  
“I cannot speak for my people, I can only speak for myself. I do not care what my people believe. What the society believes. I only care about you. If I had known the truth about you, about what had happened, I would have sent them away without a thought. We would never be in this position.”  
“I know, and that is what makes it difficult for you. You know that this need not have ever happened, but due to the inevitable twists of fate, it did. Do not blame yourself. I certainly do not. I simply know this is not a burden I can bear. You know how they look upon me. I reign from fire, yet I do not even belong there. I was nothing, and never would have been except for luck,” she explained, “Not only am I nothing to them, I am less than it. I am disgraced. I have not the power my hands should wield, for I fell from favor years prior. You know what they do to my kind.”  
“I know, as it is not always fair. They exile you, if not worse. I will not allow that to happen, I swear that to you.”  
“It is more than usual disgrace. I was pledged to marry their future king. You know the stories of what happened to those who dared to marry outside their own kind, much less marry a disgraced.”  
“Many of them were never seen again,” he reminisced, nodding.  
“And many of them were found dead, brutally slaughtered!” she exclaimed, letting out a sigh, “I do not fear death, but I do not wish to bring the hate of others upon me further. If I had known all that I know now, I would have never started a relationship. Not that I regret it, not in the slightest. But I do not want them to know my shame, nor to hate for me attempting to live a lie.”  
“On my life, I will not allow anyone to harm you. I will not let them touch you.”  
“You cannot watch me every moment of every day. There will be a time, and it will happen.”  
“They fear me, and rightly so. I would tear the offender limb from limb if they so much as look at you with hate in their hearts. I will never let them hurt you.”  
“Yet as I said before, you cannot watch me at all times. You cannot ensure that no one lingers when they should leave. You have a duty to your people, and that duty far outweighs the duty you once had to me,” she reminded, smiling sadly.  
She was so beautiful, yet now, she appeared so cold, so unfeeling.  
“You cannot have a commitment to both me and your people. I know what you would like to choose, but alas, you cannot. Your people, the greater good, must always come before me. And your people, if you choose me, will scorn you and turn you away. You cannot have that. You must have their unwavering support and loyalty.”  
“I will never give you up for crown I did not choose to bear. I was born into this, but I did not choose it, nor will I ever. I do not wish to bear the burden some so fervently desire. I only yearn for a simple life, the life we were going to share.”  
“That life was a lie. It was shadowed and tainted by my past, and your future,” she protested, “It was further broken by my reality. You want a simple life, a life with a wife and children. Children I could never have borne for you.”  
“I did not care about that,” he reminded, placing his hand on her pale, cold cheek, “I only care about you.”  
“I know,” she returned, placing her hand on his, “If we were born to different lives, Thane.”  
“I will make this life work, if it means we are together.”  
“I do not doubt it,” she assured him.  
Gently, she removed his hand from her cheek.  
“Yet I cannot ask your people to accept me, and that is what they would have to do in order to allow us to be together. Therefore, I will not. I ask of you, only one last thing. Send me back to that town and think not of me in my passing. Do not protest me, let me go.”  
“I will never.”  
“Your duty, your people. They come first, no matter what you believe. They need you, more than you know.”  
“Then they will simply have to accept the bride that I have chosen. I know I am popular, if only that it be I am the heir. They want me here, so they will do what they must. If any of them want favor with the future king, they will not utter a word against us. I will ensure your safety, that I can vow to you,” he explained, “I will not force you to marry me, for that would be wrong But, if you love me, tell me so. For I will make this happen. I will let nothing stand between us. Not your past, not their prejudices. You are a strong-minded woman, one who does not back down, and does not fear, nor dwell in the past. You are what the kingdom needs, more than a mild-mannered king they will soon inherit. If you will have me, if you love me, I will marry you nonetheless.”  
For a long while, she did not reply, forcing him to assume the worst.  
“I will,” she agreed, her sorrow-filled eyes looking up at him for a response.  
Without further need for encouragement, he gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly, as though he would never again free her.


	16. Repentance of a Condemned Woman

The following morning, Chalandra awoke to the smell of bread and honey. Once she came to her senses, she spotted Thane sitting on the couch. Smiling, she rose and walked over to him, her white nightgown fluttering slightly due to the open window.  
"Good morning," he greeted.  
"And to you," she answered with a smile as she approached him.  
He held out his arm as she stepped forward to him, inviting her over. She smiled, and pressed her body against his, kissing the top of his head and wrapping her arms around his neck.  
"I am sorry to have taken your bed," she muttered.  
"Do you not know me at all?" he replied.  
"That was before this." she muttered, taking a seat next to him, "I am sorry, I truly am. I was wrong in keeping it from you, and I was wrong in my actions. I further hurt you when I refused your hand though our separation is not something either of us desire."  
"It is my apology that should be given," he finally confided, his voice portraying his honest remorse, "Not yours."  
"For what?"  
"You know well what I have done."  
"I have forgiven you, there is nothing more to be said," she assured him.  
"The regret in my heart says otherwise."  
"Please, for my sake, do not hold it against yourself. You acted justly upon learning of my past life, and the things I did in it. There is nothing to be forgiven. I would have done the same and to think you ever would have acted in another manner is not possible."  
"It cuts me to the heart to know that I am capable of doing such a thing to the woman I love. Even beyond that, I almost lost you over it," he muttered.  
"It was meant to destroy us, but it did not. I am still here, and you still love me. There is nothing more I could request."  
"How can you forgive me so easily?"  
"I know you love me. You are willing to do so much for me, how could I not forgive you?"  
"You are far more than I ever deserved,” he told her.  
Placing a hand behind her head and the other on her upper back, he pulled her in and kissed her lips.  
“I love you, Chalandra, I do love you."  
"I know, I know," she murmured.  
"I do have a gift for you, as an apology."  
"Do you now?" she asked, smiling.  
"Yes, as an apology for my actions."  
"Whatever it may be, it unnecessary," she smiled.  
"Yet deserved," he insisted.  
Chalandra shook her head but said nothing. No matter what he had done, she deserved nothing from him. He was enough. He had always been, and always would be. His mere love was more than she could ever ask, and even thinking her worthy of such loyalty was more than she should ever have been blessed with. How could a man of noble blood be in love with a maid, especially one that had been cast aside and made to be a slave? Even after all the time it took to win her trust, he still wanted her. How could he ever have chosen her above all the other women of the court? They were more beautiful and of greater rank. No doubt any one of them would have made a wonderful companion, instead of the lowly woman he had chosen.  
"Do you want to see it?" he asked, referring to her gift, her thoughts interrupted by his gentle, reassuring voice.  
"Yes, of course," she answered.  
A faint smile on his lips, Thane offered Chalandra his hand. Helping her stand, he led her out of the room and down the hall. To the courtyard he took her, walking somewhat briskly. Once they stood outside, he turned her toward the stables. Nodding to one of the grooms, they took his signal and disappeared from sight. When he returned a moment later, he led a magnificent golden horse. From where she stood, Chalandra could hear the heavy breath of the mare. Letting out a shrill neigh, the golden horse threw herself skyward, causing the groom stumble forward.  
"She is yours, Chalandra."  
"She is beautiful, but I fear I will not be able to handle her."  
"I believe you can. The two of you have much in common."  
"Are you sure she will be alright? I hardly know how to ride," she reminded.  
"Are you afraid?" he asked.  
"No, not at all. I only fear I would ruin the horse," she protested.  
"I believe you will be perfect for her. She will obey you."  
Nodding slightly, though she was not convinced, Chalandra took a few steps toward the mare. The palomino's golden coat shone in the sunlight, and her white mane rippled in perfect waves as she tossed her head impatiently. Slowly extending her hand towards the horse's neck, she stepped forward again.  
"You are alright, beautiful mare. Calm down," she said softly.  
The groom looked frantically towards Thane, knowing he could be blamed if Chalandra was injured.  
"My lord?" he asked warily.  
"It is alright. She will be safe," he assured him, watching Chalandra from several steps back.  
The moment her hand touched the mare's golden, silky coat, she felt a connection with the horse. She felt her quiver under her fingertips; an invisible energy surging through the magnificent horse. To her surprise, the horse did not back away, nor did she fight Chalandra. She stood still, the only sound that of the mare's breath.  
"I will take her," she said to the groom, holding out her hand for the reins, for the mare wore a nosebandless bridle.  
With a great deal of reluctance, the man handed Chalandra the reins.  
"Thank you," she said gently with a soft smile.  
Holding the reins loosely, she stroked the mare's neck as the man walked away.  
"Why are you calm for me, beautiful mare? I am no different than any other person, nor am I as experienced as your groom. Why me?" she asked, watching the stunning horse.  
In that moment, she realized the mare was to be hers, and would serve her better than any other ever could. It was a connection between them, unspoken and true. It was the bond between horse and rider the Dendä so highly valued and could never force.  
The palomino seemed to answer without words. Turning her head, she brought it around near to Chalandra. Her gentle brown eyes seemed to be filled with understanding and kindness, but with an incredible spark of fire. Her eyes danced with spirit and light, but somehow maintained a gentleness toward Chalandra. Gently, she ran her hand down the mare's slightly curved head. With her other hand, she wove her fingers into her silky, pure white mane. Unlike many of the other horses, her mane did not fall to her throat or below, but stayed much shorter. Likewise, her tail did not even touch the ground, but remained several feet above.  
"What should we name you, beautiful mare?"  
Slowly, Chalandra looked over the mare, studying every detail of the stunning mare.  
"Avaleth. What do you think? For many will envy you, being such a beauty."  
Gently, she kissed the mare's velvet nose.  
"Would you take me for a ride?"  
Slowly, she grabbed the mane of the mare in both hands. Though she was new to riding, the mare was short enough to allow her to mount easily. As she pulled her body up and swung her leg over, the mare stood completely still. Once she was settled on her back, Chalandra gently touched her heels to the mare's sides. Without any further command, Avaleth walked forward. Her stride was short, but very comfortable. Finding the mare sound and calm, she asked for a slow trot. Instantly, Avaleth fell into a smooth, graceful trot. To her surprise, she did not have to post, and sitting on the mare bareback was not difficult even at the trot.  
After she rode about the courtyard for a few minutes, circling Thane, Chalandra stopped her mare and dismounted. Leaving her reins hanging over the mare's withers, she turned to Thane.  
"I love her. Thank you."  
"I am glad she is so obedient for you."  
After passing the reins over the mare’s head, she led her back to the stables. Upon the finding the groom who previously had brought the mare out, she stopped in front of him.  
"Excuse me, where is this mare's stall?" she asked.  
"Next to Aearion, Thane’s stallion."  
Pointing to the stall next to a heavily built bay, he gave Avaleth a wary glance.  
"She and Aearion seem to get along well, surprisingly," he said, rather annoyed.  
Leading Avaleth back down the aisle way, she turned her into the open stall door. The large stall was laid thickly with bedding, and the water trough was filled to the brim. The stall was stunningly beautiful, made from the finest wood. Either side of the stall was made of solid wood to nearly Chalandra's chin and turned to beautifully painted wooden rails to keep the horses from fighting with each other. The back of the stall had another door which led to a pasture. The top door was open to the outside so to allow Avaleth the freedom of the fresh air. The front of the stall held the intricately carved stone water trough on the left side, and the hay manger to the right. The door was directly centered on the wall, with the bars curving upwards on either side.  
When she had led the mare in, Aearion greeted his friend with a soft nicker, which Avaleth had returned. Kissing her golden horse's grey muzzle, she removed her bridle and left her to wander about the stall. Outside of the stall, she placed the bridle on its hook and found a halter on the hook adjacent. To her right, there was another, more decorated bridle along with a saddle and saddle pad. Taking one last look at Avaleth, she turned to leave, but stroked the long head of Thane's stallion on the way out. Once outside, Thane greeted her.  
"I have never seen a finer mare, she will serve you well," he said, pleased he had chosen such a wonderful mount for her.


	17. Choices Made

"Now, you have your horse, you need a room. You are perfectly welcome in my room at any time and are more than welcome to sleep in my bed whilst I find somewhere else. However, I had them prepare the room across the hall from mine," he explained as he walked through the halls.  
"That was not necessary. I am more than happy to sleep in some guest's room," she offered  
The idea that she was to be an honored member of society was outrageous. "You are my fiancée, not some guest and will be treated as such," he argued, opening the carven oak door decorated with dark metal leaves.  
The intricate vines spiraled all across the door. So many would walk by and never notice the beauty, but not her. But the wonders that lay inside rivalled all she had seen before. The room was vast inside, larger then she had seen before as a bedroom. One for the first things she noticed was the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The sunlight reflected from the open widows, creating a thousand rainbows about her room. All around her was bright and beautiful. The great iron day bed, along with several other chairs, had light blue cushions, which were all around a light wood table with wrought iron legs. Like the door, the oak table had dark metal leaves that climbed up from the legs, decorating the outskirts of the table. On the center of the table was a bowl of fruit and a pitcher of water, all along the left of the room, near the windows.  
To her right, in the middle of the room, was her bed. There was a light blue bedspread over the crisp, white, silk sheets. All manner of decorative pillows had laid to rest on the bed, many which displayed images of flowers and leaves. At the foot of the bed was a great chest. To the left was a matching blue rug with a rearing golden horse in the center. The rug had a beautiful, spiraling silver trim. Behind it was a bookshelf filled with books of every kind. History, poetry, everything she had studied in her past, forgotten life and more. To the left of the bed was a tall wardrobe and a vanity with a tall mirror. To the left, near the back of the room was a small door.  
"That door leads to the other room, which has a vanity and such," Thane explained before leading her into the room.  
Immediately, he turned to the right and opened an enormous dark oak wardrobe. It was filled with dresses of all kinds, all more expensive than she could have dreamed.  
"Over there is the wardrobe with everything else, these are just your dresses. That cabinet over there holds all your shoes," he instructed, pointing to the wall on the other side of the door.  
"Now," he began, leading her to the other, smaller wardrobe by the vanity. "This is your jewelry," he said, opening the second one as well.  
Inside held more jeweled necklaces and bracelets then she could have ever imagined.  
"All your hair accessories are in here, or in the other room. If you are ever lacking in anything, simply ask. If there is a dress you want, or a necklace you desire, tell me. Your servants will bring you everything you need. I hope it is satisfactory."  
"Thane," she started, tears in her eyes, "I could have never imaged all this. Why give this to me? I do not need this. I do not deserve this, nor do I want it. This is not who I am.”  
"I love you, and you are to be married to me. This is the treatment any other prince's fiancé would receive. So, you shall have it too," he answered, shrugging.  
"I will let you get settled. We have an interesting night ahead," he sighed, kissing her cheek and releasing her hand.  
"What is it?" she asked, sensing his discomfort.  
"My father has requested your presence. He wishes to meet the woman I have chosen to pledge myself to,” he replied, obviously annoyed and anxious for the meeting.  
"It will be alright," she muttered, trying to comfort him.  
"I just want you to know that I love you. He is not a kind man nor a discerning one. Do not take his comments to heart, and do not let anything he says sway you or make you uneasy," he requested before flashing her a quick, uncomfortable smile and departing.  
The moment he left, she knelt down on the floor and wept of her crimes. She was so loved, yet she hated herself so greatly. How could she ever forgive herself for what she had done? If others could forgive her, she must too. Yet still, the wounds created by one's one hate for them self are often the hardest wrongs to forget and the slowest wounds to heal.

That night, Thane knocked on her door early in the evening. He offered Chalandra his arm, giving her an awkward half smile. The dress she had chosen was a beautiful bright purple. The style was of traditional Dendä. The skirt fell loosely, made up of many layers, some made of sheer material and other made of more solid type. Several of the layers were a sheer silver fabric rather than the purple. Though it consisted of many layers, it still fell flat rather than the styles in the world of men. The sleeves were loose and long and looked similar to the skirt.  
Without a word, Thane led her down the hallway to the king's quarters. Before knocking, he took a deep breath and hesitated. A servant let them in immediately, seeming rather terrified. His father sat on the opposite side of the room, holding a glass of wine in his hand. Instead of taking in the splendor of the room, she focused on a good impression. To Chalandra's surprise, he looked like an ordinary Dendä, rather than like Thane. He had long blonde hair, a regal bearing, and was dressed in the royal robes. Upon his head sat a crown of greater splendor then she had ever beheld. The pure, glistening diamonds reached skyward in beautiful designs of stars and flowers. When Alya entered, he stood, his every move mimicking that of a Dendä. With perfect grace, he made his way over to them. Thane stood uncomfortably in front of the taller man, who, remarkably, looked younger than his own son.  
Chalandra kept his eyes down, feeling the man's gaze shift from Thane to her. He scanned her, taking in every detail.  
"What is this terrible creature you have brought me?" he asked with disgust.  
From the corner of her eye, she saw Thane grimace and set his jaw.  
"This is Chalandra, my future bride."  
"Tell me it is not true," he spat, "You should not touch a woman as horrible as this, much less pledge to marry her. You cannot mean to bind yourself to such a monstrosity."  
"You may live your life father, I merely request the same privilege," he said sternly, keeping his emotions in check.  
"Clearly you do not know how to do so, son. You have all the woman in the kingdom, and you choose this vile thing."  
"You speak of her again that way, and you will regret it," Thane recounted, though there was now anger on his voice.  
"Are you threatening me?"  
"Yes," he confirmed, unafraid.  
"You dare to threaten me?" Alya pressed.  
"I love her, even if you hate her more than anything else. Your opinion cannot change that."  
"Have you looked at her? She is ugly, not to mention she is a disgraced murderer," Alya scoffed.  
"Chalandra is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld; even you are blind not to see that,” Thane shot.  
"What will the people think, Thane, if you are running around with servants and disgraced woman? You will be the laughingstock of our time!"  
"I do not care," he snapped.  
"Really?"  
"Honestly."  
Alya turned to Chalandra. "I do not mean to be rude, but I do not understand what he sees in you."  
"Nor do I," she answered firmly and honestly.  
"You are unworthy, disgraced and a murderer, why could he want you?"  
"I could not agree more, my lord. I do not perceive myself as a beautiful woman, no matter what he says. I am not worthy of his love, nor of his kindness. I am nothing and deserve nothing, especially not him," she muttered, her eyes still focused downwards.  
"At least she is intelligent, that is something," Alya mocked.  
"Enough father! I know you do not care about what I want, but I am living life the way I chose. You have no say in that. None."  
"Oh, Thane. When I allowed you to go into that town seven years ago, I never imagined you would find a woman to marry. If I had known, I would have never let you live there."  
"As if you had a choice! I left, despite your protests. You tried everything in your power to prevent me from going there, but you were unable to stop me. I have chosen Chalandra to be my future bride, and if you do not respect that, I will leave again," he said firmly.  
"Was it not enough humiliation that you left me all those years ago? You threaten me with the same shame again?" he asked.  
"That is what you fear the most, shame? Humiliation? Is that all?"  
"You know nothing of my fears. Of my pain."  
"And what pain is that, father? The pain that a few people in your kingdoms mocked you for a son who looks like his mother had an affair with a human? Or the pain that he actually dared to leave you to try to make a difference?" Thane challenged.  
"You mock my pain?" Alya inquired, calmly, though there was a hint of pain, sorrow in his voice, "I do not care what you look like, I know your mother was loyal to me. Besides, you have power, so you cannot be a half-blood. Why you appear the way you do I shall never know. That is not what lies most heavily on my heart. If you believe I only hated that you left because I felt humiliated, you know nothing."  
"Then enlighten me, dear father. What is it that you fear the most?" Thane pressed, growing impatient and frustrated.  
"The day you chose to become a part of the army, I realized that this is my reality. Losing you. I gave you up then, for I believed that was what was best for you. You certainly believed it was. And you made a difference. You did. At least when you were a captain you sometimes returned here. I was able to keep an eye on you. Then, after your sister was taken, you wandered. You were an incredible soldier and could have been a commander for your entire life. You could have helped keep the peace. Yet it was not enough that I could lose you in battle. No, you had to go out and wander. I did not even know where you went. I lost you. Then I hear you are in some tiny town, and you have a home and work? You became a commoner. You are so much more, Thane, why this?"  
"Because I never fit in here. We both know that. We both have known that for years," Thane replied.  
"You are my son, you will always belong."  
"Even you do not believe that," Thane answered, rather coldly.  
Anger spread across Alya's face.  
"You are most impossible."  
"And you wish I was not your son, I know," Thane replied, unmoved.  
"I think a lot of things, Thane, but that has never been one of them. There has been much between us, yet that is not the truth. I only want the best for you, and this woman is not it."  
"Yes, she is."  
Holding Chalandra's hand tightly, Thane left the room, the anger welling up inside him. Once they had left the room, he turned to Chalandra.  
"I am sorry, I am so sorry," he apologized, taking her other hand.  
"Nothing he said was untrue or unwarranted."  
"Every word he said was, Chalandra. He is an arrogant man, filled with hate and spite," he spat.  
"He wants the best for you," she comforted.  
"But you are the best for me."  
"Maybe, maybe not. He sees me as you should, for what I really am. Every other Dendä in the kingdom sees me this way, as he does. Why do you think the disgraced are cast out? It is not because of what we did, they would kill us for that, but for what we become. To them, we are ugly, unworthy, and unlovable. We are the nothings and the wretched beings of this world, rejected by the very earth we were tasked to protect. I am not afraid of that," she explained.  
"You should be."  
"Why should I fear my own existence, or at least what people believe it is? Whether or not it is true, that is what people believe of my kind."  
"You can change that," he encouraged.  
"How? They are decided in their ways. Neither good deeds nor defying every belief will change that, and I am certainly not special."  
"One person can change everything, never forget that."  
"I am not that person. You may well be, but I am not."  
Thane shook his head.  
"You already have, Chalandra. You have changed me. That is more than anyone else could ever do.”  
Chalandra smiled, knowing his words were meant as a comfort, though she did not believe he honestly meant them. However, he did. He meant what he told her; he believed that she could change the minds of anyone, if only she tried. He knew she would, but he likewise feared that she would doubt her own abilities. If anyone could ever change minds, it was her. Brushing away her hair, Thane kissed her forehead and hugged her close. He placed his chin atop her head for a moment as they stood in the hallway. Then, the two parted for the night.


	18. Outrage

The following morning, Chalandra rose early, out of habit. She dressed herself in a stunning pink dress with sleeves that nearly touched the floor. The dress had a rather long skirt that pooled around her feet and dragged behind her several feet when she walked. At the top of the dress, the color was very faint, but it slowly grew darker until it turned to a deep fuchsia at the bottom. In her wardrobe, she found matching deep pink shoes, which she slipped into. In a small jewelry box on her nightstand, she found a coin-sized diamond, dangling from a silver chain. This she fastened around her neck, shaking her head at the frivolity of it. Pulling back either front of her golden locks, she braided them, and attached them in the back. Finally, she took a living white flower from the vase on the table and tucked it into her hair above her right ear.  
After she was dressed, she met Thane outside her room. He was dressed in rather similar clothing, wearing a faded, loose green shirt and leather pants that were tucked into his worn boots. Upon seeing her, he smiled gently.  
"Good morning," he greeted, "You look wonderful."  
Glancing down, she smiled back.  
"Thank you. You look...the same."  
"I cannot stand wearing those clothes. They do not suit me the way they suit my father."  
"No, I am glad you do not. You would look rather hilarious."  
Chuckling, he offered her his arm and led her down the hall towards the dining room. She was to dine with the other nobles, despite her protests. Thane regretfully informed her that even he was unable to get out the formality, though he tried. After breakfast, they would be expected to spend the day with Alya in the throne room, although Thane had arranged to take Chalandra on a tour of the palace instead. This came as a great relief, as the last thing she wanted to do was sit on a throne and lord over people she did not rule. Because of the circumstances when they met, Thane did not doubt that her intentions were pure and that she was honest, as she would have had no way of knowing his real identity.

As they walked down the halls, Chalandra had the chance to admire the beauty of the castle. The walls were stone on the outside and inside, but it was never dark. The window sills were all lined with wood of a deep brown color, polished until it had a glossy finish. The windows were all wide, letting the sunlight and fresh, cool air flood in. Some of the windows were closed, but the glass that closed them still allowed the light through. Many of the open windows had a seat that sunk down lower than the window. Around every twenty feet, a chandelier hung from the ceiling, currently unlit. In the hallway, they all were the same, beautiful wrought iron. In her room, it was made of silver and inlaid with diamonds, as well as in Thane's room.  
When they reached the dining room, Chalandra saw that the chandelier was likewise made of silver. The windows were closed, but the drapes, a magnificent light blue, had been pulled back to let the light in. The table was a deep, dark brown, polished as the window trimmings had been. Every chair was the same, with a light blue cushion to sit upon. The seat in the middle of the far side was tall and great, almost like a throne. She assumed that was where the king sat, with all the nobles around on the smaller chairs.  
Thane led her to a seat only two to the right of the grand throne in the middle, and sat to her left, directly next to the throne. She was slightly confused, but trusted Thane to place her correctly. Several others had already gathered around the table and were sitting in quiet conversation, eating some of the muffins on the table. When Thane pulled out a chair for Chalandra, and then sat himself, some of the nobles gave sidelong glances in her direction.  
When they made eye contact, she smiled politely, but they only rolled their eyes in return. To her horror, she found she was able to catch bits of their conversation.  
"Can you believe that the prince is dating a servant? I heard she is disgraced, and he met her while in the village. Even more, she is a killer, one that he saved from being executed. What does she think she is?"  
Chalandra's heart fell and her eyes found the familiar floor. Thane saw her discomfort and offered a smile, then placed his hand on her knee.  
"I love you, no matter what they think. It is not what they think of us, it does not matter," he whispered in her ear, bringing a great deal of reassurance.  
Taking a deep breath so to calm her nerves, she sat in silence, but allowed her face to soften from discomfort to a small smile. Several more nobles arrived soon after, each giving a look of disgust towards Thane and she, then turning away, whispering something, and sitting down. When her confidence again began to fade, Thane noticed right away.  
"Chalandra, would you like one?" he asked, gesturing to the basket of muffins on the table.  
"Yes please," she replied, smiling fondly.  
Thane reached out and took a muffin off of the plate from the center of the table, then transferred it to her plate.  
"There you are, my darling," he said softly, watching her closely with his kind grey-blue eyes.  
"Thank you, my love," she answered, turning to the food before her.  
Thane grabbed a muffin off the tray not a moment later, wanting one himself. For a while, they worked at their muffins and were able to make some small talk with each other. The scoffs and eye-rolls of the other nobles seemed to disappear, as they were merely together, and that alone brought her strength.  
The family now seated next to them entered about fifteen minutes after Chalandra and Thane had arrived. Chalandra assumed they were the Air Nobility, as they were black haired, had a stuffy, airy grace, and turned up their nose at all around them, all characteristics of the Air Kingdom. Upon entering, she noticed the look of disdain on the King's face as he saw he was seated next to Chalandra. As he moved about the table, he did not even glance her way, as many of the others had. Instead, he simply took his wife on his arm and called his daughter close to his side.  
Looking up with interest, Chalandra watched the silky haired woman as she moved effortlessly across the floor. Every step was light, airy, perfect. However, her arrogance was repulsive. Her eyes were kept well above the heads of those sitting, and her chin was raised high. She never glanced at anyone around the room, and if she happened to, it was always looking down upon them. When the family made their way around to the seats, Chalandra was shaking from fear.  
The king pulled out a seat for his daughter, then his wife. After they were seated, he took the one next to Chalandra, not even glancing at her. She looked over and offered a smile, but he pretended to not notice. Turning to his wife, he whispered something to her, causing the woman to snicker.  
"You are all too correct," she said aloud, still chuckling.  
"Cannot be helped, can it?" her husband replied, a sly smile crossing his face.  
"Or maybe it could be," he added, his voice condescending as he locked his gaze with Thane.  
Chalandra lowered her gaze and looked away, well aware they were talking about her. Thane, however, narrowed just a touch his eyes and returned a stony gaze. He looked straight past Chalandra to the king, knowing that he was speaking ill of his fiancée. Rather than keep his head high and well above where others would place their eyeline, like the Air king, he lowered his head, glaring up at the man in an ever more threatening manner.  
Feeling the tension between then, Chalandra placed a gentle hand on Thane's arm.  
"It is fine," she whispered in his ear, trying to break their awkward stare.  
To her relief, Thane looked away. Had it been his choice, he would have stared at the king all night long, making him regret every thought. However, for Chalandra, he withdrew, but narrowed his eyes even further before looking away, leaving the king with a clear warning. The man chuckled and went back to his wife.  
"They have no right," Thane hissed, keeping his voice barely audible as he spoke into her ear.  
"Calm down. It is their right to think whatever they choose about me, good or evil," she replied, "Besides, you do not even know they are gossiping about me."  
"I am not a fool. They are talking about you."  
The Air King began to chat with his wife, all in whispers that no one could hear. Chalandra and Thane assumed it was about her but had no proof to support this belief. It came as a shock when the Air King pushed his chair back loudly and stood up slowly, making everyone aware of his airy grace. Lifting his glass of water, he tapped it with his knife so to demand silence. The room quieted, and all eyes turned to him. Breakfast had not yet begun, but very few, one of them being Thane's father, were absent.  
"Good morning everyone," he said, as though he were addressing only a few.  
"Good morning," they grumbled in reply.  
"I know that all of you were glad to see that our beloved young Prince Thane had returned, am I correct?"  
The crowd collectively nodded. Thane was a rather popular man, though he was likewise unpopular in a great many ways. People loved him for his potential to rule, and his rank, but hated everything else about him. Rumors constantly circulated about his appearance, generally bashing his mother for having been disloyal to their king. Though there was no truth in the stirrings, many adamantly believed them, even to this day. It did not help when his sister was born, who was a perfect picture of Dendä grace and beauty. That only furthered the rumors that his father had failed to keep his wife loyal, and her betrayal had led to the supposed half-blood that was to be the heir, though he had full ability when it came to his element. However, rank, power, and wealth are a more powerful motivator than hate.  
"I know that although we were happy to see he had returned, we were not happy to meet the scum he brought along with him. She is a disgraced murderer! She belongs in the grave, not at the prince's side, next in line for the throne! She is useless, worthless, and we should never be forced to dine with her!"  
The dining room roared with approval. Quite a few men jumped out of their seats and shouted insults at Chalandra.  
"Our daughters should be at his side instead-woman bred for the throne-not you!"  
Chalandra bowed her head low, feeling the shame of the truth weighing on her shoulders. She believed every word they said, as that was what she believed of herself, making their words ever more potent. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but only a single drop fell to her lap. In the commotion, she did not even notice what Thane was doing. His jaw was taught, and he had gripped the chair arm with all his might, doing his best to control his anger.  
"See, our Young Prince. Everyone hates her. You should find another woman more suitable as a bride. You simply cannot continue to converse with such company. She does not suit you, not the wretch. Throw her out. If you do not, we shall," the snake-tongued man said, his voice even and sly.  
Despite the noise and disarray of the dining room, one sound drifted above all else. The sound of Thane's chair as he pushed it back from the table. His action silenced the entire room, merely out of respect. He looked straight ahead, rather than at his adversary. Then, he turned to the right, towards him. His mannerism seemed of an unearthly calm, as his expression was perfectly still.  
In just three steps he reached the end of Chalandra's chair, where he stood perfectly still as he waited for his opponent to confront him. With reluctance, the Air King rounded his chair and faced his superior.  
"Do not speak ill of the woman I love. I do not care if you count her unworthy, that is not for you to decide. She is more worthy of being here than any of you ever will become. Now, do not say another word against her, sit down and do not speak."  
"There is no possible way I can stay silent while you destroy our kingdom by living with a wretch," he scoffed.  
With his words, anger crossed Thane's face. It blazed like a fire, immediately bringing fear to the man before him. Instantly, Thane made a fist with his hand and punched the King directly in the nose, sending him stumbling back. The man touched his upper lip under his nose, then pulled it back and looked at the blood that was dripping down his face in astonishment. His face finally betrayed his emotions, showing he was filled with anger and resentment, not regret. It was obvious that Thane had broken his nose.  
"Do not say anything against her. If you ever do again, I will arrest you under charges of treason. Consider that an official warning."  
In response, the man lunged at Thane, grabbed his shirt and attempting to strike him. Thane moved fast enough to dodge his attack and recoil hard on his high cheekbone. All those gathered around the table began to cheer, watching in excitement as the two fought. The Air King fought hard, but he was no match for the well-trained captain. Thane soon shoved him to the floor. The man jumped up as quickly as he could and returned the blows, striking Thane's upper cheek. The blow did not even phase him, and he immediately jumped on him and wrestled him to the floor.  
Chalandra watched in horror, trying to make her way through and calm Thane, but the crowd had pushed her away. It is amazing how quickly they would move in to see a fight, but how slowly they moved to help another. On the ground, Thane sat atop the man, dealing several good punches to his face. Grabbing him by the blood-spattered robe, he lifted his upper body off the ground and slammed it against the marble flooring.  
"Say you are sorry!" he demanded.  
The Air King grabbed Thane's neck in reply, trying to turn the tables. His attack was quickly evaded by another few slams against the floor. By this time, the floor around them was slick with blood, red splattered on the beautiful white marble.  
"Say it!" he yelled again, "Apologize for speaking of her in that manner!"  
At that time, Alya happened to be walking down the hallway to the dining room. From a good way down, he could hear the cheers of the crowd as they applauded the fight. His step quickened a good deal, and he burst in the room a moment later. Looking about, his eyes grew wide for the first time in many years. His expression said everything: what on earth is going on?  
Seeing him enter, Chalandra jumped up and rushed over to him. When she approached, he rolled his eyes in disgust. Humbling herself, she bowed her head as she neared him.  
"My King, your son, Lord Thane has gotten into a fight. I beg your aid in helping stop it before he kills the man," she said, choosing her words carefully so to conform to his high standards.  
Alya looked at her, his eyes still wide.  
"Tell me, without the formalities, what happened."  
"The nobles did not accept me, as I expected. They were mocking me and saying things of disrespect about me. I was not bothered, as not a word they said was untrue. Thane, however could not tolerate it and when the Air King stood up and tried to throw me out, punched him."  
"Come with me, quickly," he said, his voice filled with urgency.  
“Yes, my lord," she answered, bowing her head a little in respect.  
He glanced to her, raising his eyebrows. Clearly, he was surprised she had payed him respect, when he had offered her none. Still, he stepped forward, his posture saying all that needed said. His head was above the crowd, and he walked without saying anything. The crowd moved aside and quickly quieted down. The only noise soon was the conflict between Thane and the Air King. He stepped forward, his regal robes trailing behind him. Chalandra followed close behind, obviously anxious to stop the fight. When the crowd parted, it was revealed that Thane was winning, sitting atop the Air King as he slammed his head onto the floor again and again. The man was obviously in agony, his moans being the only sound other than the screams of Thane.  
Horrified, Alya grabbed his son by the back of the collar and by his upper arm. Using all his strength, he yanked him off of the man. Roughly, he shoved him towards Chalandra.  
"What do you think you were doing!" he screamed, pushing him hard in the chest.  
Thane stumbled backwards, surprised by his father's arrival. Chalandra reached out and broke his fall, holding him briefly as he returned to his feet.  
"Answer me!" he demanded.  
"That scum insulted Chalandra and purposed to throw her out on the streets! I struck him, then he attacked me!"  
"As she should be. You chose an unworthy to be your fiancée. Some of us take the liberty of speaking out. However, not all of us have the authority that I do," he shot back.  
Shaking his head, Alya turned around and offered his hand to the man on the floor.  
"I apologize for my son's outrageous actions. They are beyond unacceptable, and your recovery will be covered at his expense," he said, offering him a hand up.  
The man staggered to his feet, his head throbbing and bleeding freely. He was barely conscious, yet able to walk. His wife rushed over and took her husband into her arms.  
"Thane, look at what you have done!" Alya chastised, "You nearly killed him."  
Thane set his jaw, trying to hold back his anger. This man deserved his wrath, and he would gladly kill him if they were not nobles. Chalandra placed a gentle hand on his arm.  
"Please calm down," she muttered under her breath, afraid to speak in front of the crowd that ridiculed her.  
From where she stood behind him, she was able to hear him draw in a sharp breath. Although she loved Thane very dearly, and knew she would stand by his side, no matter his actions, her heart went out to the Air King. Thane had nearly killed him. The man's scarlet blood pooled on the floor, which branched out into smaller rivers that trickled in the ridges of the grout. Now, the Air King had a bandage tightly wrapped around his head, but stained red within a second. He was clearly lightheaded and having troubled standing, but he stood looking at Thane with a smirk on his face. After he lowered a cloth he held to his bleeding mouth, he spoke.  
"She is worthy only to be a slave no matter how high you raise her," he jeered.  
Thane jumped forward to attack him again, but Chalandra grabbed his upper arm. It astonished her that she was able to keep him back, but he settled and stood still.  
"No, Thane, no," she hissed under her breath. "Let him be, you have done enough harm."  
"Get him to the doctor, now!" Alya commanded, waving one of his regal hands at him.  
"As for you." he said, turning to Thane, "I will see you in my chambers, immediately."  
Once again, Thane set his jaw. Chalandra took his hand and found it sticky with blood. Drawing her hand away, she had a servant bring a wet cloth, then wiped off both her hand and his.  
"Come on. You must go," she pressed, taking his hand now that it was clean.  
When he turned around, no longer forced to look into the face of his enemy, his anger cooled though he still gripped Chalandra's hand with great force. Looking up into his face, she saw that he had a bruising cut where he had taken his one and only blow.  
"Let us go and get you cleaned up, shall we?" she said, looking over his blood-spattered clothing and arms.

When they were outside the dining room, he turned to her with a gentler demeanor.  
"Do you think I was right?"  
"What do you mean by that?"  
"Was I right to fight him?" he asked, his voice laced with a tinge of pride.  
"While I will stand by you, even when I do not agree with your actions, I do not agree with what you did."  
"Then no one will."  
"They probably will not. You nearly killed a man," she reminded.  
"He wanted to throw you out! On the streets! You, my fiancée! That is disrespect!"  
"It may be, but you still have acted unjustly."  
"Were my actions truly wrong?" he pressed.  
"If he had actually stirred up enough support to throw me out, that would be one thing. Then, it may have justified your first blow, and self-defense thereafter. However, you nearly beat him to death. That was not justified, as no one even laid a hand on me."  
"You are the only one to whom I would admit my actions were wrong. However, he was not right in speaking against you in such a manner. It is one thing to whisper about you and another to try to throw you out,” he argued.  
"Perhaps, but are you honestly so proud and so haughty that you would not admit to your wrongs? I should hope that is not the man I have made you."  
"Perhaps not, but I would never apologize to him."  
"I beg to differ," she shot, looking him in the eye with a challenging glace.  
Behind her stance on his actions, she was proud. Proud to have found a man who would honestly, truly, care for her and protect her at all costs.  
"Do you honestly want me to offer my apologies to him and his family?"  
"Yes," she said firmly.  
"Why would you want that?"  
"Because this is me we are talking about. That is who I am."  
"Which is exactly my point."  
"But am I not proof of humility and admitting to wrongs? I killed a man Thane, and I knew it was wrong," she argued.  
"You had to."  
"It was still wrong," she said firmly, her voice sharp, "Not once have I thought otherwise."  
"He would have killed you otherwise."  
"That may be so, but I had no right to take his life. He was a terrible man, but I should have showed him mercy rather than wrath. As for you, you are to speak with your father as he wishes and accept whatever consequences are to come of this. Likewise, you will not argue with him. You were wrong, no matter how much you despise him."  
"Why should I?" he scoffed.  
"The people of this kingdom already hate me, I do not need them to hate me even more. They may think that I am so weak and haughty that I stood back and let it all happen, or even encouraged it. I need you to prove them otherwise, for my sake."  
"As you ask, Beautiful Light," he consented with a sigh.  
"Thank you. Now go," she said, planting a small kiss on his lips.


	19. Justifiable Wrongs

Slowly, he crept towards his father's chambers, savoring the touch of her silken skin as long as he could. Finally, he turned away and entered the room, closing the door behind him. Chalandra smiled, knowing he would do right in order to make good of his wrongs, even if he needed a little persuasion from her. In the end, he would do as she requested, if only to please her and keep her safe from within the kingdoms. Because of his actions, she may very well be in danger, but she would not share that with him. Smart as he was, he would figure it out on his own.  
Chalandra returned to her room for around fifteen minutes before Thane knocked on the door. Before she could answer, he opened the door and walked in, his father following behind.  
"Yes, I said I understood. Now please," Thane sighed, walking up to his fiancée, who had opened and was reading a book of poetry he had given her.  
"This is a serious offence, Thane. Do you not understand that? You nearly killed a noble for the sake of that, that, thing," he said with disgust, looking at Chalandra as he spoke.  
"Please do not drag me into this," she chimed in, realizing that they were going to try to bring her in.  
"I understand what I did, but I stand by my actions! He had no right, and he attacked me in response."  
"Rightly so! You struck first, it is the natural reaction," his father reminded.  
"Thane, no one but you stand by your actions. I think it was wrong, your father thinks it was wrong. It was wrong!" Chalandra inserted, her voice firm.  
"Oh, yes, thank you. Very helpful you are today," Thane replied sarcastically.  
"As much as I despise her, your lady friend is right."  
"She is my intended! I do not care if you hate her, but you will respect her!"  
"I will do no such thing!" Alya snapped.  
"Please, do not bring me into this," Chalandra begged.  
"You bought yourself into this," Thane corrected.  
Chalandra sighed, realizing he was right.  
"Alya owes me no respect. It is enough that he does not use his authority to cast me into the streets or have me killed."  
"She has a point," Alya said, backing up her statement. "You should listen to her."  
"No one at all is with me today, are they?"  
"We only want the best for you. Did you not even consider that when you made the choice to get into a fight that you were putting her in danger? I may not like her, and I may prefer to never see her again, but the truth is that you have a duty to her. As her fiancé, you must protect her at all costs. Today, you had poor judgement and put her in danger more than you helped her," Alya lectured.  
"And if someone had disrespected my mother, your wife, would you not have done the same?" Thane questioned.  
For a moment, Alya fell silent, pondering the argument.  
"You are right. I would have, and I nearly did, in my youth when we first met. They said she was unattractive and haughty. Knowing your mother, you know neither of those things were true."  
"Thank you, father," he said earnestly, bowing his head slightly in respect.  
"Double the guard on Chalandra's room. If anyone tries to break in here, bring them directly to me. She is not to go anywhere without Thane or a guard," Alya commanded to the guard outside her quarters.  
From the moment she had arrived, Thane had realized many would prefer to see her dead, and thereby had stationed a guard outside her room at all times. The man nodded and turned to his assistant, who turned down the hallway to carry out the command.  
"Thank you," Thane said again, looking his father in the eye with sincerity.  
Alya departed, leaving Thane and Chalandra alone.  
"You are right. My actions were wrong, but I stand by my actions to protect you," he apologized, kissing her cheek.  
“As I know you always will,” she replied.  
Patting the seat next to her, she waited for him to sit. From the center of the table, she took a glass, which she filled with water from the silver pitcher. Raising it to her lips, she drank deeply of the cool water.  
“Though I believe we need to talk of our wedding.”  
“We need to decide on a time and a place, my love. We could still have it in the village, if you prefer, but I believe there may be more suitable locations here. Perhaps in the garden?” he suggested.  
“That sounds lovely, it does, but I believe it would be best, for the time being, to postpone our wedding,” she sighed, offering a small smile to ease the blow.  
“What? You want to postpone our wedding?” he asked, shocked.  
He thought she would want to be married as soon as possible, especially since they had already tried to marry once.  
“I do not want to, but I believe it to be for the best. You have to understand it would not be my choice, nor would it be yours, that much I know, but it is for the best. Just for a time, not long.”  
“Why though? I thought you would want to marry as soon as we could.”  
“Think about it.” she pressed, knowing he understood as well as she did, “Your father, he does not know me. He is not yet ready to offer his blessing over a marriage to a woman, a commoner, a convicted killer, that he does not know. I do not know that he ever will, but it is only right to give him a chance to come around. If he does not approve, neither will your people. We have to bring this to them slowly. We cannot simply force them to accept that I am to be your wife overnight. They must first realize we are not giving up. That we are going to be married but are not yet. They will realize they cannot break us up and will likely concede. But we have to be gentle. We cannot force this on any of them right away.”.  
“I understand that, I do, but I do not wish to delay our wedding again. It is by my folly that we waited the first time. I do not want to wait longer, to wait to pledge myself to the woman I love. They will have to accept it, whether now or later, and I would rather just force it upon them. They will concede when they realize there is no other options than to accept the potential of a disgraced heir.”  
“I do not know the entirety of your rules and customs, but I do know I will never accept the title of heir. Your wife, that I will be, but not their heir or queen. I will merely be you companion, not your equal in their eyes.” she protested.  
“No, that will never be acceptable. If you are going to be my wife, then you are to accept the duties and responsibilities that come along with it.”  
“When I saw I will not be your equal, I only mean in the sense that I will be your lesser in the laws of the land.” she corrected, raising her eyebrows, “I will most certainly not be your inferior in our marriage, nor behind closed doors.”  
“I understand fully, I do, nor would I ask you to submit yourself to me,” he assured her.  
Nodding a little, she thought for a moment before drawing in a breath.  
“When I met you, I did not know this was the burden I was to bear if I were to accept you. I did not know I was going to become a potential heir. I do not want that burden, for I am not a woman for that duty. I need time, same as the people, to come to terms with these ideas,” she admitted.  
“I understand, I do,” he answered, rising from his seat to move across to sit next to her.  
He placed his arm over her shoulders, pulling her against himself. Content, she took a deep breath and rolled into him, comforted by his warmth.  
“Yet I do not wish to delay. I do not. We were robbed of our marriage once, and the unity that we would now be subject to, and I do not wish to wait any longer.”  
“I know. I was robbed of my wedding,” she muttered, her arms wrapped across his body, “I do not wish for an uprising to strip me of it again.”  
“I will not allow that to happen.”  
“Just for a time, let us wait,” she requested, “Just until they accept my mere presence.”  
“I will give them four months, then we start planning again,” he offered, his voice firm, though she knew it was not directed to her.  
“That seems fair,” she agreed.


	20. The Stone of the Moon

One Year

The next few days were busy, as Chalandra prepared to celebrate their two-year anniversary and consequently a year of their engagement. She tried very hard to find a gift suitable of her feelings for him, but it was to no avail. There was nothing so special as to give him on such a memorable night. Nothing could embody the love that they shared, save the love for each other itself. Thane planned to spend all of the day with his fiancée. In the evening, after spending the day together in the town, they would dine at the same place in which they were engaged. If only she had another gift to give him, yet she already knew that her love for him should be enough. He would never ask for more, but she wished to give him more.  
The day arrived, and she woke in Thane's old home, the two of them having travelled out the day prior. He, as they had before, slept on the couch. Chalandra took the bed, and he made her breakfast when she came out. As she crawled out of the bedroom, she crept silently across the floor. He had his back turned as he knelt by the fire. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek. He chuckled to himself and smiled broadly.  
"Good morning," he greeted, placing his hands on her arms.  
When she released him so he could stand, he turned around and helped her up from the floor. Placing his hands on her face, he pulled her in and kissed her lips. Then, he let his hands drop to her lower back and held her in for a tight embrace. Her face buried in his neck as his chin rested on her head.  
“How are you today, my love?" he asked.  
"Perfectly well. And you? How did you sleep out here?" she inquired.  
"Fine, as usual. To imagine we have spent two years together now. Two years since our meeting," he marveled, looking down at her smiling face, "Look at how you have grown since we met. You were so timid."  
"It was you. If it had not been for you love, and your kindness, I would never have been able to move beyond my past."  
"So beautiful and so forgiving," he muttered under his breath, kissing the top of her head as he released her, "Now, I made you breakfast. I know, it is not much, but I figured it would suit us, especially after all we have been through. I assumed a meal that was like the ones we ate so often would not be amiss.”  
"Perfectly, of course," she smiled, going to collect some bowls from the kitchen.  
A few minutes later, they were eating in front of the fire together. Thane found some white sugar and honey to put on their oatmeal, so it was warm and sweet to combat the bitter cold of the night in that town. In addition to the oatmeal, he had made some small corn cakes in the embers of the fire. They were hot and buttery and went well with the glass of milk he had also served her. When they were done with breakfast, Chalandra went to wash the dishes.  
"No, no, I insist," Thane said, gently moving her aside before rolling up his sleeves.  
"You made breakfast, it is not out of place for me to do the dishes," she protested.  
"Perhaps not, but there is no harm in spoiling one's woman when able."  
"You spoil me constantly. Let me do this for you. Besides, you are a prince, I ought to serve you occasionally," she requested.  
"No, no. There is not harm in me doing this for you," he insisted, beginning to wash the plates and bowls.  
Chalandra consented and stepped back, knowing there was no hope of him giving up the chore now. She smiled as she sat down at the table, watching the man she so dearly loved. There was to no lengths he would not go if only to see a smile cross her face.  
Before her, the sounds of Thane scrubbing the pot echoed into her thoughts. He was hunched over the sink, his large, powerful body working at a menial task. But he was happy. She could tell. By now, she had known him long enough to know what his happiness looked like. Without even seeing his face, she could feel his emotions. She had to. He was far too stoic to show her his real feelings about something. However, she could honestly feel it. Now, in this moment, doing a woman's job with no promise of reward, he was happy. He was happy to do something for her, anything at all.

Thane was soon done washing the dishes and dried off his tanned hands. Turning to his fiancée, he offered her his arm and they were out the door. Outside, two servants held their horses. Chalandra smiled, for she realized they were going for a ride together. Thane stepped forward and assisted her to mount Avaleth. The mare stood still as her master settled herself onto her bare golden back. Once Thane was mounted, she collected her steed and sent her off at a trot. The mare gilded eagerly over the ground, going forward without urging. Thane and Aearion followed close behind as they made their way through town and into the grassy country.  
Once on the lands of tall grass, they let their horses pick up speed. The mare sped ahead, being significantly faster than the stallion, even though her stride was far shorter. Aearion's long, easy stride was no match for the little mare. She was strong, despite the fact she was a mare. Often, it was the stallion, not the mares, that were considered the greatest of the warhorses, as they were built strong and charged into battle without fear. Not so for her. Avaleth was loyal and willing, even more so than many stallions. Unlike some of the more temperamental mares, she never questioned her mistress's commands, yet her gentle mannerism made her a perfect mount for such a precious rider. For a long while they galloped across the grasslands, her long white dress skirt billowing up behind her. Eventually, Chalandra yielded her mare towards the woods. As she entered the woods, she slowed her mare to a brisk trot. Smooth as she was, Chalandra had no need to post while riding bareback.  
The light that broke through the trees crisscrossed her face. She looked up, catching a glimpse of the sky through the broken entanglement of leaves. Her mare fell to a walk, and Thane rode up beside her. Slapping the mare's neck, she sighed, taking the crisp spring air deep into her lungs. Looking to her right, she smiled, seeing the stern, though gentle face of her fiancé.  
“What shall our life be after our marriage?" she questioned, "But now, I cannot help but think of how different everything is. And how much more different it will be when we marry."  
"What of it? It changes nothing, not now. I have chosen you to be my wife, to bind myself to you, body and soul. And I will not go back on that choice. I never could," he replied.  
"I do not expect you to, nor would I want you to. It is merely the mockery I fear we," she paused.  
"You," she corrected. "Will face should you carry out your promises."  
Thane laughed a little, though he muffled it quite well.  
“We already face scorn. Mockery is nothing in comparison with the grief and despair I would feel should we not go through with my promise. Furthermore, I do not intend to name another heir, should we fail to have a child."  
"Thane, you already know I am barren."  
"Perhaps so, and I will in no way be disappointed or unhappy if we do not bear children, but I still dare to hope. I know it is nearly an impossible dream, but to believe we could bear children together is only second in beauty to believing I will marry you."  
"Bearing your child would be one of the greatest honors I could imagine, only second to being your wife," she answered, smiling, "But I must know, what do you mean by saying you will name me heir?"  
"In the Dendä kingdom, if the born heir dies before having children, they would have named an heir, whether it is the next lord in line, or..."  
"Their spouse," she stuttered, shocked, "No, you could not name me your heir, I am not even blessed with a power any longer!"  
"Hopefully, we will never be in a situation in which we will have to have an heir named. However, it is neither your choice, nor my father's, nor my kingdom's. It is mine and mine alone, solely based on who I believe would fulfill the duties the best. My opinion is unchanged by love and spite, is that it indeed would be you. Furthermore, I have already named you as my heir, even if you die before we are wed."  
"Please do not leave me to that fate. A lifetime surrounded by people who spite me, alone. Instead, remain with me, protecting me from those who scorn us," she requested.  
"I have no intentions to, my Beautiful Light," he assured, "When are you hoping to solidify our bond? It has been three months since we agreed to give the kingdoms time."  
"Soon, I hope. Very soon," she answered, smiling.  
Turning her mare around, she started back towards their home.

By the light of the stars, they dined, celebrating two years of each other's companionship. Though for many Dendä it was a short period of time, they knew each other better than many would in a lifetime. Often, Dendä couples are distant and remember little about each other, as their minds set on their work. Although they do often care for each other, they tend to not take the time to learn about each other as they did. Sometimes, they have difficulty finding time for each other, especially if one is in a position of power.  
But for them this was not the case. They truly, honestly, loved each other and spent as much time as possible together. No matter how busy Thane was, or how tired he was from the day, he found time for his Chalandra. Their love was pure and honest. It did not matter how little time they had spent together in the eyes of their peers, they were engaged and truly one, though they were not yet married.  
Now, their dinner finished, Thane took her hand and led her to the front of the balcony. The night was clear, the stars casting a beautiful luminous glow down on her. She was not afraid. He was everything to her, and she trusted him with her entire being. For once her in life, she had found peace. Found comfort. Until now, until she had met him, there had been nothing and no one to protect her. Not a single breathing thing that had gained her full and complete trust, not since she had been taken as a slave so many years past. Now, she felt safety, security.  
Taking her hands, he smiled at her. His gaze was loving and made her blush, all his emotions shown to her through a mere glance. She glanced away and smiled, her own heart full of love for him. Slowly, he worked his way up until he held her arms at her elbows. Then, without warning, he let go of her with one hand. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed something and cupped it in his palm. Smiling gently at her, he let go of her other arm.  
"Chalandra, there is nothing in this world that matches your beauty, and nothing ever could. Neither do I believe that something this trivial could stand testimony to my love, but I do wish for you to have this. I know that you are never find pleasure in material things, and that is a reason I love you, but I found this for you nonetheless," he said, fastening a beautiful necklace around her neck.  
A beautiful light blue stone, cut into an oblong sphere, hung on a silver chain was the gift he gave her. It had a beauty like no other necklace she was ever given and glowed in the starlight. If one looked hard enough into the stunning blue jewel, they would find it was not only blue, but actually a swirl of white, silver, and aqua. The moment it touched her skin, she felt a surge of power. For a moment, it gave her pause. She inhaled sharply, feeling a quick stab of pain, which, though passed quickly, had no definable point of origin. She became dizzy, almost to the point of her becoming fearful of falling. Thane, concerned, took her hand.  
“Are you alright?” he inquired, having watched her go pale and finding her hand to be cold to the touch.  
“Of course,” she replied, smiling broadly and, just as suddenly at it came, it passed, "Thank you.”  
"I know you find true joy in the wonders of the earth, not material items."  
"I love it," she interrupted, placing one hand over the stone, "It is beautiful."  
Thane looked at her kindly, glad she was pleased with the gift. He had never been, nor ever would be, one to lavish gifts upon her. He did love her wholly but chose not to express that love through material items. He sometimes would get her things, but never felt like that was the best way to show her love. Likewise, Chalandra was not a woman who felt love through material gifts, but though the way he treated her. It made her more difficult, because she either felt loved or hated through actions.  
They stayed together for another hour, simply sitting together on the bench watching the night. Chalandra leaned against Thane, who was half reclined. His arm was around her, and she was nearly on top of him. With him, she felt at home for the first time that she could remember. He was gentle and true, steadfast in the darkest times. No matter what was happening or what she did, she knew she had him to return to, she always would.

Soon they made the journey back to the palace on horseback, then parted for sleep, both tired from the long day. While Chalandra parted with happiness, feeling loved and whole, Thane parted from her with dread. He had not yet told her, but he was soon to leave for a time. As he lay on his bed, he repeated two words over and over again; for her. They were all the comfort he had, and he could not tell her lest she realize the truth. If she did, all would be lost. He toiled into the dark of night, sweating in endless torment against the fear that worked at his heart.  
Chalandra slept peacefully, untroubled by the truth that lingered. She changed into her nightgown and slept with the beautiful stone around her neck. The only dreams that she had were pleasant and good, feeling loved and calm.  
The following morning, she woke later in the day than usual. When she woke, her hand went to her breast, hoping to find the stone and feel its warmth. Instead, she found that the jewel was gone, missing. Panicked and surprised, she searched her room all morning, in tears on the floor for pain of losing something so precious. The thieves had taken nothing else, only the stone. Perhaps it was a jealous admirer, or a spiteful noble. It did not matter, it was gone. It was all her fault, as she should have locked it up in a safe place. But beautiful things are meant to be used and admired, not locked up in a chest, away from the light and growing cold without the sun to make it sparkle. Nonetheless, it was gone.  
An hour after she woke, her servant knocked on the door, bringing her breakfast. He found her weeping on the floor, her room completely pulled apart.  
"My lady, what is the matter?" he asked, concerned.  
Quickly, he placed the tray on the table and rushed to her side, kneeling by the crying woman.  
"I lost it," she muttered between tears, barely able to get the words out.  
"Lost what, my lady?" he inquired, unsure what she had lost that was so precious.  
He knew she was not a material person, and her engagement ring was still on her finger.  
"Thane gave me a necklace last night, more beautiful than any other, as an anniversary gift. It was a stone of the moon, one of the last of its kind. This morning, it was gone," she blurted.  
"My lady, your fiancé will understand. I am sure it is around. It was not stolen, I assure you, as no one entered or exited your room other than you. It is around," he said, trying to comfort her.  
"I have looked everywhere. It is gone!" she exclaimed.  
Gently, he laid a hand on her shoulder.  
"I will fetch Thane for you."  
Nodding, she buried her face in her hands. The servant left her side but returned not five minutes past.  
"Chalandra, what is wrong?" Thane exclaimed, seeing her in a hysterical mess.  
He rushed to her side and knelt down next to her.  
"I lost the necklace," she sobbed, barely able to admit it.  
"Oh, Chalandra," he said softly, wrapping his arms around her, "It is alright."  
"But it was so beautiful, so precious," she protested, tears flowing down her cheeks.  
"Perhaps, but it was only a thing, it was not worth all these tears," he comforted, drying her eyes.  
After taking several deep breaths, she calmed herself some. In her hysterical state, she was not in the right mind frame to ask important questions, or even think of them. Why did he not even look? Did he consider someone had stolen it, or that it was still around, only buried in the mess? In her fragile state, she did not notice his hand slip into his pocket, hiding something that she would shudder at the thought of. The swirl of deep blue and silver, a vile poison. If she caught him with his secret, she would never let him. Never.  
Thane was able to convince her to eat some breakfast, though she was not hungry, and with a heavy heart decided to tell her. He had not yet broken it to her, but when he saw her bent over with grief over a necklace, he knew he would have to. He had always known it would be necessary, only a question of when. The answer was today. He could bear it no longer, she had to know. She would hate it, she would protest, but she had every right to know. He would tell her, even thought she was already grief-stricken.  
Taking her hand as she sniffled, Thane tried to comfort her. In effort to please him, she nibbled at some of the breakfast her servant had brought in earlier. From her upset, she was not hungry, but still ate some of the fruit. Thane gently rubbed her hand, trying to calm her. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to tell her the bad news.  
"Chalandra,” he said, his voice low and concerned, proving that something was wrong.  
"Yes?" she replied, looking at him with worry, knowing that something was awry.  
"I know you are already upset, and I do not wish to upset you further, but you must know something."  
"What is it?" she pressed, putting her pear down and looking at him with wide eyes.  
"I have to go, to leave on a campaign," he said after a long pause.  
"What?" she exclaimed, drawing her hand away, "Why? Are we not at peace?"  
"No, we have not been at peace for many, many years. Men are restless, they want to rule. They no longer want Dendä rule, they wish to be the supreme authority. For years, we have been withdrawing all Dendä and rulers to within our kingdoms in an attempt to keep the peace. Yet it will not hold forever. They want us dead, they believe us to be corrupt."  
"Then what do you go to do? If war is so close, why leave now?" she pressed, obviously upset though she had assumed there was a threat from men for some time now.  
"Some men made a move on a small, innocent village. They are under our protection, so therefore we must pursue the offenders. I have dealt with these specific men before, so they need me to lead the warriors."  
"But you cannot! What if you die! If the threat from men is real, what if you are killed! We will have no one. We would be defenseless and without guidance. You father may rule, but he has no military intelligence, or any kind of ability to lead our armies! We would be destroyed! And if you were to be killed, what would become of me? What of your kingdom after your father's death? No one is left to rule, no one at all."  
"Hush now, my Beautiful Light, this is what must be done. There is no choice but to fight. I am the last leader, the last one to rally them. I will not die, I will be safe. I am a Dendä, and I have been a warrior all my life, there is nothing to fear. I will return to you. If, for some reason, I do not return, if the worst fate befalls me, you will be alright. It is for your safety that I leave you. As for a future leader, you would be the future of the kingdoms. After Alya, you would rule."  
"Why must you speak of that nonsense again!"  
"Perhaps to you it is, but it is true. My father may not like you, but he will take care of you, for me, in my absence. If I am to die, you will not be thrown out or cast away, he will care for you as a daughter. He has already agreed to do so, for my honor. He may not like you, but there is both good and reason within him. He would instruct you and help you to learn to rule, if I am to die. But, my Beautiful Light, I am not going to my death. I will return after only two short weeks, safe, and with the comfort of knowing our people are safe."  
With tear-filled eyes she looked to the floor, hiding her sadness from him. It hurt her deeply, but she knew he likewise was hurt by this. If she showed her true emotion it would hurt him more, make it harder for him to go. He had to go. He did this for the sake of his people, and for her sake. To keep him was to be selfish, without care or compassion. It was her duty, not only to him, but to her people, to support him in this time of need.  
Swallowing hard and taking a deep breath in order to calm herself, she choked back her tears and turned to him with a faint, sad smile. Trying to show her support, she took his hand in hers.  
"You are brave, very brave."  
"I am sorry. It is wrong to leave you-."  
"But it is your duty. I know that this is your duty, and I love you for it. You are a courageous man, willing to sacrifice in order to keep your people safe. You are willing to put yourself at risk in order to follow through on your promises. I knew this was who you are, and I would not have you any other way," she assured him, taking his other hand and kissing him when she finished her sentence.  
"Chalandra," he whispered when their lips parted for a moment, his love reaffirmed by her words.  
He knew she was worried for his sake, and yet still did her best to bring him comfort. It was what he needed to hear, and she knew that. Although her words were meant to reassure him, he also knew they were sincere.  
"Thank you."  
Pulling back, she smiled, more sincerely this time. "You know I speak the truth. You are so kind, so loyal. To everyone, but to no one more than I."  
Thane nodded, his left hand finding his way into his pocket again. If only she knew the whole truth, but that was unlikely that she would ever know, nor should she ever. Her words were true, but the meaning was lost as she did not know. It did not matter though, she knew the partial truth, and that was enough.  
"When do you leave?" she asked forlornly.  
"Tomorrow before dawn. You will still be sleeping."  
"No, I will get up with you."  
"Perhaps, but I do not believe you should."  
"Do I not have the right to see you off?" she asked.  
"Of course, but for my own sake I ask you do not. You are what would cause me to, linger when I need to leave."  
"If that is your wish, then I shall not."  
He nodded, sadly, but knowing it was for the best. No matter how important the quest was, she would unintentionally beckon to his heart, calling him back and preventing him from leaving.  
"It is, unfortunately."  
"May I ask why?" she asked innocently, merely curious about his reasoning.  
"I want you there, more than anything. You give me strength. However, I know that if I see you as I am leaving, my heart will call me back, making me stay. I will see you in the distance, and you will cause me to stay. It is not your fault, it is my own, as I am the one who is unable to control such a temptation."  
"Then I will not be there, but know that I will be awake, and I will watch you from the window."  
"Thank you," he answered, kissing her hand, "It is likely to be snowing in the mourn, so I will not see you, but perhaps you will see me."  
"With all hope."  
They spent the rest of the night chatting about less serious topics, as is the way of those who are afraid or dreading something. They try to forget about that which cannot be forgotten. It is the only way many know how to cope with loss and fear. Although they tried to remain on lighter, more happy topics, the conversation did drift back to their reality several times. She requested to stay the night with him, to sleep in his room. As much as he desired that, he declined, knowing that her mere presence may cause him to stay. That night, they parted with the longing, wanting to stay in each other's company through the long night. Instead, both of them tossed restlessly in their sleep, unable to calm their nervous hearts.

In the cold of the morning, before the sun had risen, Chalandra slipped out of her bed. She did not feel the morning chill that lingered in her room, despite the warmth of the crackling fire. Her mind was set on one thing, and one thing alone. Her room was calm, but her mind wandered to dreadful things of dark nature. Fear controlled her. Walking across the cold floor to the window, she drew back the curtains and gazed upon the beauty below. The sun was soon to rise, and the world was growing light. Only several stray snowflakes fell, but the breeze carried them around. Overnight, the snow had fallen in a more abundant supply, cloaking the ground in untainted snow.  
As she stood so close to the window, her breath fogged the glass. After wiping it away, she stepped back, just a little, to avoid fogging it again. Still, the glass was fogged over from ice. Her warm breath illuminated the air as she stood. Then, she saw the man she loved. He was bundled up tightly in the coat he had worn in the town where they met. Sitting astride his noble steed, he was ready to depart on the campaign, but his heart called him back. Though he led his men, he stopped and looked up to the window. For a moment, he was completely still, even his great stallion beneath him knowing better than to move.  
There he saw her, the beautiful woman, standing perfectly still, so fair. She wore her white nightgown, and, standing by the frosty window, nearly blended in. But he could see her, every detail of her. One hand, her right hand, was placed on her breast, the other hung by her side. Her creamy skin stood out against the white of her nightgown, the curtains, and the frosted scenery. Her face was sad, forlorn, but also equally hopeful and brave against the hurt that she feared was to come. Her rose red lips stood out the most, being the only thing of color amidst the swirl of white.  
The beautiful image of his woman in that moment, so strong and fair, was forever imprinted upon his mind. He watched her for only a passing moment, turning away to the path he chose to take. It was as he had feared, he longed to stay by her side, yet he was forced to go. Torn between two worlds, the world of his desires, and the world of his duties. Yet, as he always had before, he chose rightly. He would fulfil his duties before he followed his own longings. But he would return. No matter how hard it was, or how much he would suffer along the way, he would come home to her. He knew what he was facing, and it was her love that would pull him through, being his saving grace in the last hour.  
As she watched him leave, a single tear rolled down her cheek. That was all. She would be strong, as strong as Thane was. She knew Alya would be kind to her, and comfort her in her trying hour, but she would refuse to show the pain. The hurt, it raged inside her. Not out of contempt for him, but instead the hurt that came in their parting. She knew deep in her heart she would see him again, but the other half of her feared she would not. No, the fear would not control her in the next two weeks. It would not. She would never, ever fall victim to the dark, twisted ways of fear again. She had known its ways all too well and would not subject herself to it again.  
She only had five minutes to herself in solitude before her servant came in, bringing her some warm tea. Alya came in with the servant, ready to comfort her in her time of need. They would find support in each other, as they both loved Thane so deeply, though in different ways. When he first entered, Alya hugged her in a tight embrace. He knew she loved Thane, and though Thane believed that his father hated her, the two had a good relationship of sorts, having been first formed after Thane fought the Air King. They respected each other and were able to get along quite nicely though Alya kept up the cold charade to spite Thane and keep the nobles from questioning his choices. Both had a deep respect for the finer arts and the world, such as poetry and nature, so they never ran out of things to talk about.  
"You watched him leave then?" he asked, taking a seat on the couch.  
"How could I not?" she answered, sitting down across from him, "That could be the last time I ever see him."  
"Do you honestly believe that though?"  
"No, but it is a possibility."  
Alya nodded, knowing the kind of worry she was feeling. No matter how cold he acted towards Thane, he honestly loved his son, despite their differences. Before Chalandra, he was concerned about his future, as he seemed so lost. Whenever he left to go lead his men, he never knew how long it would be until he returned, if he ever did return. He died inside every time his son left, not knowing what his future would be. His faked coldness was an attempt to show his displeasure in Thane's actions and keep peace within his kingdoms. If they believed he supported his son's actions, there could be outrage. It was against all their traditions, and therefore a threat.  
Naturally, he had at first believed her unworthy to marry his son, partly from her past, partly in belief that no one would ever be good enough. Once he learned more about her, he realized how good she was for Thane. She was a strong, independent woman unafraid of what they kingdoms believed of her. She held her own morals in high esteem and did not care what others thought of her. He had to appear cold and hateful towards her in order to keep peace, but inside he already loved her like a daughter. She was exactly what Thane needed and had been searching for all these years.  
"You know that I do not dislike you, unlike many of the other nobles."  
"Of course, and I understand why you have to act in such a manner."  
"I believe you are a strong woman, and what Thane has been looking for all these years. You are good for him, better than he could ever find elsewhere."  
"Thank you."  
"I apologize that I must remain so harsh towards you in public. If I were to admit to my fondness of you, I do not know what consequences we might face," he sighed.  
"I understand, but there is no need to apologize, I already know."  
"You are too intelligent, it could cause an uprising in the kingdoms to know a woman could possess such knowledge and understanding."  
Chalandra smiled. She was trying hard to keep her thoughts away from Thane, but she had little success in doing so. Her mind kept drifting back to him. Finally, she sighed, trying to push away her nightmares of his death. Shaking her head slightly, she grabbed the tea her servant had brought in. Inhaling deeply, she took a sip.  
"Help yourself," she invited Alya.  
He nodded and took the other cup. For a while, they sat in silence, unable to keep away their fears.

The following two weeks were miserable. Chalandra was in constant company of Alya, but when he was not there, her servant kept vigil with her. For several days, she tried to distract herself with books of beautifully written poetry, and other things of the sort. In fact, she even tried keeping a journal. But nothing could keep her fears at bay. If she had one wish, it was to join her fiancé in these dark times, to stand by his side as the battle raged on. She did not want to be locked up in the palace, standing in her high tower and wondering about his fate. She wanted to be in the midst of it.  
And if she died? Death was nothing, not to her. After so many long years of yearning for the merciful touch of eternal sleep, she did not fear it. The only reason she was forced to stay here was because of Thane. He wished her to stay, and for his sake she respected his wishes. Three days into her hell, she had confided her wishes to Alya, that she wanted to join him. With that, he shook his head and refused. With that, he had left the room and doubled the guard on her, fearing she may actually try to leave. It disturbed her that he was so afraid of it, and had raised many questions, many of which troubled her through the night.

So, the two weeks had passed, and she believed that all would be well. That Thane would return, and she would wake to the gentleness of his kiss. She did not wake to his love, but to the frantic voice of her servant, trying to rouse her from her slumber.  
"My lady, my lady, wake up," he urged, trying in the gentlest way to wake her.  
Chalandra jerked awake, sitting up as soon as she woke.  
"What is it, what is wrong?" she asked, knowing by his voice that something was awry.  
"Lord Thane has returned. He is not well."  
"What? What happened? Where is he?" she inquired in rapid succession, her head spinning with questions.  
"Take me to him!" she finally said, stepping out of bed and grabbing her robe.  
She rushed out the door, her bare feet barely touching the ground as she went. Her heart pounded, not knowing what she was to find.  
"This way, my lady," her servant guided, keeping pace with her, "In his room.”  
Chalandra ran ahead of him and burst into the room. "Thane!" she cried, seeing him lying in his bed, surrounded by doctors and his father.  
On the right side on his abdomen, there was a deep wound, oozing, black and rotten. He groaned occasionally, and even shuddered with pain, though he did not open his eyes or respond in any manner.  
"What has happened?" she asked, turning to Alya.  
He simply shook his head and returned his gaze to his son.  
"I have a right to know! Tell me, please!" she pleaded, tears forming in her eyes as she watched him.


	21. A World Unveiled

Alone, she kept vigil, wanting to allow the doctors and Alya to rest some. She was youthful and in her prime, so to stand watch on her fiancé in his hour of need, even through the night, was no hardship. The following morning, she was found with her head on his chest, awake, and feeling the shallow movement of his breath. In the dark of night, when not a sound came from the desolate halls, she had promised something to him. She had promised him that she would find out what had happened to him. She had no idea what had been done to him, but she knew it was a terrible thing if everyone, including Alya refused to tell her. What darkness had brought this over him? This was not an illness from the cold. This was something much, much worse.  
In the dawn's light, when a doctor came in to take over, she left the room, kissing his forehead and whispering 'I love you' to him as she left. It did not matter what she was to face, not this time. To whatever had done this to him, she may appear to be weak, and incapable of saving herself, but she knew better. Whatever had dared to hurt him, she was capable of destroying. For it is true, it may have taken down a mighty warrior, but there was no danger. Thane knew that if he died, Chalandra would lament him, and all would be well in the end. Yet for her, it was different. She was leaving to seek vengeance. Her blood boiled with rage and hatred for whatever had harmed her beloved Thane. Her heart pumped blood of wrath, seeking revenge on whoever or whatever had harmed him. Her thirst could not be quenched by anything other than blood. Blood repaid for the blood it had spilled. There is no rage greater than that of a woman and nothing in the world could stop her, not now.  
As usual, Chalandra returned to her quarters for a time, only to find she was constantly attended by her servant. Finally, she turned him away, requesting that a woman was sent instead. Though surprised, he obliged, and a young lady was sent in his place. The door shut behind her, and Chalandra took her chance. She clapped a hand over her mouth and demanded that she remain silent.  
"Say nothing, and do not shout if you value your life," she commanded, showing her one the small knives Thane had given to her.  
The girl nodded frantically, willing to do anything to save herself. Chalandra motioned to the couch, instructing her to take a seat. Chalandra was dressed for combat, clothed completely in clothes fit for battle. Her boots were ankle high, laced up tightly with her black pants tucked in. Her shirt was likewise tucked into her pants, a rather pretty blue that resembled the sky. Although Thane was unaware, she wore a metal chest plate over her shirt and under her leather vest, for she knew it please him. In addition to her breastplate, she had leather guards that ran from her wrist to her elbow built into her shirt, so to protect her from the bowstring. Like her leather vest, they were brown. As for her hair, it was braided tightly down her back, therefore kept out of the way. Over her vest, she had two swords crossed on her back, as well as two quivers of arrows and a longbow. She also had a variety of knives hidden, though very accessible throughout her body.  
"My lady, I did not know you were trained in combat," the girl stuttered.  
"Keep your voice down," she whispered, keeping her voice low for fear that the guards would hear her.  
Looking into the servant's eyes, she watched the girl as she shook with fear.  
"I had begun my training before I was taken. I know how to handle a sword and shoot a bow, though I do not know how good I will be these days. Nothing will happen to you, I would not hurt you. I simply need you to remain quiet." she assured her, trying to calm the frightened girl.  
"Now, I need you to leave and say nothing, absolutely nothing. If you tell on me, I will know. Make no mistake, I may not intend to kill you, but if the guards are on my trail before I even leave, I will know it was you. I would kill you then. You must understand, I have to do this, for my fiancé," she threatened, though she made only empty promises.  
"My lady, what are you going to do?" the trembling girl asked meekly.  
"I am going to find whatever hurt my intended, and I am going to kill it."  
"Alone, my lady?" the trembling girl asked, surprised.  
"It is the only way."  
"Surely this is not what Lord Thane would want."  
"He would do the same for me, that is enough," Chalandra answered, turning to the window, "That is the only way out, through the window. There are no guards there."  
"My lady, you will never make it," the girl protested.  
"I can, very easily. I am sorry for my harshness, but it was a necessary evil."  
"It is alright, my lady, I would do the same."  
"You love a man then?" Chalandra asked.  
"I have someone I hold close."  
"Good, do not let him go. Please, do not tell anyone. They will discover my absence soon enough, I just need a head start."  
The maid nodded.  
"I will not tell, my lady," she agreed.  
She strode across the floor and opened the window. After grabbing her backpack of supplies, two large saddlebags and additional bag that attached to her saddle, and a black cloak with veil, she slipped onto the ledge of the window. Turning around, she let herself fall far enough to hold onto the window ledge and let go. She was only on the second floor, and Dendä could survive a fall that far without any damage. Landing on her feet, she crouched down for a moment before dashing to the stable, pulling her cloak and veil about her as she went.  
A moment later, she was in the stables. The entire way, she lingered in the shadows, so to avoid being seen by the guards. Though she had stayed in the dark, she was able to make good time in the short distance. Once in the stables, the sweet smell of hay and horses soothed her a little. Immediately, she ducked left, crouching down by the stall of her mare.  
As a groom walked past, she sprang up and grabbed him tightly, clapping one hand over his mouth and dragging him down with the other.  
"Get the tack for Avaleth, and bring it to me," she demanded, showing him her knife.  
Due to her veil, the groom was unable to see her face, but did as she said nonetheless. Quickly, Chalandra tacked up her mare, fastened her supplies to the saddle, and swung up onto the mare's back. Taking a deep breath, she squeezed her legs tight around the palomino's sides, urging her into the gallop. In seconds, she was out of the stable, across the courtyard, and out the gate. Her actions were so swift that guards barely noticed and were much slower to react. They were forced to trail far behind, not even having horses tacked with which to pursue her. By the time they left the palace, they had no chance of catching her. Chalandra not only had a ten-minute start, but was riding on the fastest horse in the stable.  
Her actions had been so carefully planned. No guard could catch her, no one would force her to return home. This was exactly as she had wanted. She rode east, to the town in which she had Thane had met. There, she would gather information on what had happened. She doubted that anyone there would know what happened, but they would perhaps have an idea of where Thane had gone. She would be there within the hour, with a mare as fast as Avaleth.  
Once Chalandra arrived at the town, she removed her veil and cloak. Avaleth stood quietly by the side of her master, in case there was a need of a quick escape. The mare was barely winded from the run, as she was conditioned to do much more strenuous work and used to far longer gallops.  
With her mare trailing behind, Chalandra stopped one of the villagers on the street.  
"Excuse me sir, do you know anything about the attacks on the village under Dendä protection?" she asked, stopping one man as he passed.  
"What are you trying to do? Start a fight? We don't want any part of your political debates. This town belongs to everyone, Dendä and man alike. If Dendä are here, they are here. Men live here, and that is the way things are. Just get along, can't you," he scoffed.  
"Sir, I just need information on a past attack," she clarified, "I do not want any trouble, only peace. I simply need to know who hurt my intended."  
"Why do you want to know?" he inquired, suspicious about her.  
"Because I know there are things he is hiding from me, I simply want to know why, and what could be so terrible that he could not tell me."  
"Who is your fiancé?"  
"Thane."  
"Who's that?" he asked, confused.  
"The king's son, lord and future king," she answered, her tone not bearing any kind of arrogance or superiority.  
"The future king? What'd you then? Who are you then? Royalty? You don't act like a noble."  
"I daresay not. I was a slave, captured and abused for nearly eighteen hundred years. After I escaped, I ran to this village, where I met Thane," she replied.  
"What kingdom ya from?"  
"The Fire Realm."  
"You a Fire then?" he pressed.  
"No sir, I was disgraced many years past."  
The man paused for a moment, thinking over all this information.  
"Then you are certainly a different kind. If you need information on a past attack, I would speak to the watchtower folk. They see all."  
"Thank you, sir, you have helped me greatly."  
Mounting her mare again, she trotted to the watchtower. Outside of the gates, there were guards. Riding up to one, she stopped.  
"Excuse me, sir, did you see the Dendä guard ride through here, several weeks past?"  
The guard looked at her for a moment, then nodded. "Who could forget those folks? They rode through here three weeks ago and needed a place to stay the night. Headed to the mountains north of here, least I overheard. Don't know what for though."  
"The mountains north of here? But why?"  
"As I said, I don't know."  
"One more question, if you do not mind. Was there an attack on a Dendä protected village three weeks ago?" she asked.  
"Not that I heard of."  
"Thank you very much."  
Immediately, she turned her mare to the north and sprang off at a gallop. By now, the mountains were likely to be covered in snow, but she may still be able to find what had happened there. But Thane had lied. There was no attack, he had left for another reason. Why would he ever lie, unless there it was to protect her. Even then, there was no reason to, not even if it was the gravest of dangers. Whatever it was, it would have to be horrible for him to hide it from her. Why? Why? So many questions racing through her head as she rode, begging for answers, yet none came. In time, she would know, and with any luck, she would understand, or at the very least know enough to ask Thane about it, whatever it was.  
Ahead of her, she could see the snow-covered mountains, the place she needed to go. The ground beneath was already was covered in snow, and it was only going to get worse. Wind howled around her, the snow growing ever more harsh. As she pulled her cloak closer around herself, she urged her mare on faster, trying to reach the mountain before they froze. Once they reached the mountain, it was likely they could find shelter and answers.

It was nearly dawn by the time she reached the mountain, but there was nothing to tell any difference in the time. The sun had remained hidden by the clouds all through the day. The horse and rider and travelled ceaselessly through the night, desperate to reach the mountains. Now that they were there, Chalandra scanned the mountainside for any sign of a pathway. It was almost impossible to see through the blizzard that howled around them, but she finally saw what she was looking for. To her right, only feet away, was the beginning of a pathway.  
"You stay here, Avaleth. I must do this alone," she commanded her horse, taking only her weapons with her.  
Although she worried for the mare, she knew that Avaleth was conditioned for this, and would survive the cold as her ancestors had done. Slowly, she started her long ascent, her desperate plea for information.  
Not two hours passed before she found what she was searching for. On her left there was an entrance, small enough for only one person to crawl through. From inside, she could see nothing but darkness, yet something called to her from within. Bending down, she peered inside. Cautiously, she crawled in, not knowing what else to do. Inside, she found only darkness.  
Though all was black, she saw a faint glow deep in the heart of the cave. Drawing her sword, Chalandra walked towards the light, careful not to make a sound. All around her, she heard voices, calling out to her from the darkness.  
"Go on, go on. It is safe, this is your destiny," the voice whispered, pushing her forward.  
"Who are you?" she called out, breaking her silence, though raising her sword.  
"I am greatness," it answered, "I am your guidance."  
For a moment, she paused, another invisible force calling out to her from the outside.  
"Go, continue, see the light," the voice urged.  
Once again, she began her slow walk towards the glow. It was only feet away from her now. But it had a shape. It was the stone, her stone. But dark and twisted it swirled within the glass sphere, not light blue and silver.  
"What is this?" she asked, reaching out to touch it.  
Yet her hand halted. Pulling it back, she looked around her.  
"No, no, go on. Touch it. Claim your true power."  
"Who are you?" she demanded, raising her sword higher.  
"Oh, now you want to kill me?"  
"I demand you tell me who you are!" she cried, unable to see through the darkness to know who was taunting her.  
"By whose law?"  
"Thane, lord of the land and future king is my fiancé. I will allow you to draw conclusions from there."  
"You are here because of Thane?"  
"Yes, I intend to find out what hurt him. Also, I am very curious as to why my necklace is here," she replied.  
"I see he has not yet told you."  
"Told me what? He had been unconscious for several days now."  
"Please, why do you not return to him? He will be looking for you as soon as he wakes. But first, go on and touch this stone. Claim it and its power for your own. It is the key to your life. If you do, everything that has ever happened to you will make sense. Besides, Thane would be very proud of you if you returned to him with all that glory," the voice encouraged.  
Chalandra shook her head. She knew something was awry.  
"No, no. You are wrong. I do not trust you," she hissed, her voice laced with hate, "Tell me, was this where Thane came?"  
"I do not know, is it?"  
"You were the one who did this, whatever has happened to him. You did it! It was you! Explain yourself, before I kill you."  
"Oh now, no one can kill me," the voice echoed, louder, mocking her.  
"I can die trying."  
"So different from what I expected."  
"Why do you treat me like you know me? I have never met you before, I have no knowledge of who you are! And what do you mean, different than you expected?"  
"Oh, Chalandra, while you may be new to me, I am not new to you. From the moment you were born, I knew you were different. The one who was pure light, the one who could bring about my demise. I have carved the path of your life so that you would never discover you own powers and live out your life as a simple slave girl. I knew I could not kill you, no, no, even as a babe you were too strong for that. So instead I gave you this life. I made you weak and hopeless. Somehow, you managed to break free from my restrains and met Thane. He realized that there was more to you. That you were under my influence. The Dendä do not just become powerless, it was my slow undoing of your mind that caused you to lose your power. If you were left to live your life in full, you would have destroyed me. Still, you are neutralized, if only for a time. You may not discover your true talents for a long while yet. When Thane came here, I struck him down, as a precaution, and as a way to lead you here. I need you to touch that stone. If you do, my power will flood through you and you will be mine. You are the greatest power ever to walk this earth, greater than I. I need you on my side."  
"Never. I do not know what that stone does, or who you are, but I would not touch that thing,” Chalandra shot, "Though I certainly do not believe all the lies you have told me."  
"You think they are lies? Then I have succeeded indeed," he taunted.  
"Tell me then, what happens if I do not touch the stone like you want me to?"  
"Whether by your hand, or my own, I will bring down the Dendä. My men are already preparing to attack your kingdoms, getting closer every moment. They will desolate your precious kingdoms and lay waste to your kings. Your people will be slaughtered, every last one. Men, women, children alike, they will all burn and suffer at my hand. Try to escape, if you will, but you cannot outrun my soldiers. All your nobles will die, does that not anger you? No, not you, I know you are too good for that. You do not care about nobility. They are all on the same level in your mind, every life is as precious as the last. No one is greater, all are equally deserving of life, no matter their past life. Such a gift, though rare it is. I do not believe anyone will share your point of view. Such a pity, as it is truly a gift indeed."  
"What are you saying? That you would destroy my people? But what for? You have no gain."  
"Do I not? Many Dendä are too strong to allow me to corrupt their hearts, but not men. They are weak, and I will be able to shape them and control them with little trifles of things, like money. They are so easily brought to their knees by wealth and riches. On second thought, so are the Dendä, but men do not know my ways and my tricks, unlike the Dendä who know what evil looks like."  
"You want to rule, but who are you? Once you rule? What will you do? What good is world turned to darkness? What is it that you want?" she pleaded.  
"I want the greatest prize of this world, which is you. My men do not know what I want, lest they should try to claim you for themselves."  
"You are wrong, you are lost. Tell me your name! Tell me from where you came!"  
"My name is Gesfel, though my origins are lost in time. I believe some may know, but you I will not tell."  
"Then tell me, one final honest truth."  
"Anything," he snarled in return.  
"Were you the one who hurt Thane?"  
"Yes," he confirmed, the sound echoing from the dark.  
With that, Chalandra's face turned from calm to hate. Her eyes flashed with a new, more powerful fire and her body tensed with anger.  
"Then you have made this very simple."  
"What is that?"  
"It does not matter if you are threatening to destroy the kingdoms, as you will be stopped. I will leave here, without touching whatever kind of enchantment you have placed over my necklace. I will warn them, and I will save them. I now know your plans, and they will know how to stop you."  
"You think I have placed enchantment over the necklace? You are wrong. The dark that now lives in that stone is from yourself. Your fiancé used the stone to draw out the evil that was inside of you. I worked my way into your heart over many years, that is what destroyed your power. However, now, if you touch it, you would become like I. You would be powerful, as I have managed to escape from the dark that was once inside you and dwell within this place. Before, I was lesser, but you made me more powerful. I existed before, able to reach the hearts of the weak men from my weak state, corrupting them for my own purposes. Now, I can roam free amongst them, claiming any I choose. And as for you, I will not allow you to leave here and warn your fiancé’s people of my plans."  
"I do not believe you have a choice. Because now you have told me everything, save your name. I do not need anything else, as you already told me what I really wanted to know."  
"And what is that?"  
"Tell me one more time, did you hurt Thane?"  
"I did."  
"You almost took everything from me! All I wanted was him! All I cared about in this world was him! For years, you have tormented my mind and my body, tearing me apart for your own purposes! You could not even let me have him? Could you not bear it?"  
"Never!"  
"You made him suffer!" she cried, bending over as her rage took her.  
"You did it!" she screamed, standing up throwing her arms down quickly.  
Though she did not understand, nor did she realize, Chalandra's power became great. In her wrath, she was restored, and her power was supreme. She managed to force the being into the stone, trapped, only able to be freed by her power. It let out a cry as it was pressed into the stone, locked into a cage, if only for a time.  
"Do not ever touch him again," she warned, turning to the entrance of the cave.  
Her heart pounded as she walked across the stone floor. She felt a great and unexplained peace, as though some weight had been lifted. It was the condemning of the entity that brought her serenity. She would return, and she was unafraid. She knew all was well, though she did not understand why or what was well. But at the same time, she feared that there would be war, that the Dendä would fall.


	22. The Dark, Unafraid of the Light

She was outside again, facing the dark of the storm. Time had passed, and the world turned to night, but the sky showed no difference. The wind continued to howl, sending the icy snow swirling through the air, making it unbearably cold. Though her thoughts were pushed aside, and thoughts of returning home took their place, she would not forget one word. She descended the mountain slope, stumbling slowly along. In the dark and the cold, she could see nothing before her. It was only by accident that she bumped into her mare yet was thankful that she had.  
Stepping up to her steed's ear, she whispered in. She knew all manner of shouting would be lost in the storm, drowned out by the thundering wind.  
"Thank you, Avaleth, my faithful mare, for waiting despite the cold. Many others would have wandered off, in search of shelter, yet you remain for me. Take us home now, my strong, fast steed. All is well enough for now, and I know what hurt Thane. Be swift though, my mare, for an important message I carry. He must know. Take us home, fast as you can," she said, turning back and mounting her horse.  
The moment Avaleth felt her master settle in the saddle, she leapt off with lightning speed. The snow was deep, yet the mare, of pure Dendä blood, was able to run atop it, only her hooves sinking in. The words of her master she did not understand, yet she knew the urgency of her voice. The wind was strong, every force trying to keep them away. The mare pushed on, faithful to her duties. Safely she had taken her master there, and safely she would return her. No wind nor storm, nor heat nor blizzard could stay the will of a beast so great. She had only one quest, to fulfill her master's wishes. The mare was homebound, returning to the place of her birth. Even though every sense she had was numbed, she knew the way to her master's home.  
As her great steed galloped through the night, Chalandra clung to her neck. The supplies were no use, only clothing was what she wanted. She had no stomach for food, nor thirst for drink, warmth was all she desired. More than anything she wanted to feel warmth. But this had been a necessary task. She had discovered vital information that could save her people. Little did she know of the greater good she had done that day. She had neutralized the demons that haunted the world, if only for a time. It was now weakened because of her, and that could very well be the saving grace of her time. She alone had escaped from there unharmed. Every man Thane had taken with him was killed in that cave, so great was that demon. Thane had only escaped because his men had taken the blow, falling before their captain's feet as their life failed them.  
Sometime during her long ride home, Chalandra had drifted off to sleep on her mare's back, weak and tired. Avaleth thought nothing of it, as she was trained to return home when commanded, no matter what was happening to her master. When Chalandra woke again, the snow had ceased, and the sun had risen. It was a beautiful sight to behold, the first light in weeks. All seemed calm and well with the world, nothing amiss.

In the light of the rising sun Chalandra could see several horsemen riding towards her. She was in the land near the town, so presumably they were guards searching for her.  
"Good girl, Avaleth," she told her horse, stroking her tireless steed.  
Moments later, the horsemen and Chalandra neared. They slowed their steeds to a trot, then a walk, and raised their right hand to their chest so to salute her. Avaleth too slowed, realizing they were guards from the palace.  
"My lady, where have you been? Lord Thane has been worried sick,” Ravon, Thane's second in command informed her.  
Thane had only left his second behind in order to watch over her, a duty he was likely to have been reprimanded for having failed.  
"He is awake? Since when?" she exclaimed, demanding answers.  
"Since two days ago. In the middle of the night, he woke. The poison seemed to be drawn out of him and he was healed."  
"How long have I been gone?"  
"Four days’ time, my lady. Are you alright?" he asked.  
"I am fine, only tired. Please, take me to him immediately."  
"Of course, my lady. That is our command. He is furious for letting you escape, and wants to see you as soon as possible," Ravon said, motioning to one of his men.  
The horsemen took Avaleth's reins from Chalandra and pulled them over the mare's head.  
"What are you doing?" she asked, trying to grab the reins back.  
Ravon grabbed her around the middle and pulled her onto his horse.  
"What is this!" she cried, protesting.  
"I am sorry. Our orders are to return you to Thane unharmed and at any cost. These are simply precautions," he apologized, binding her hands and handing her weapons off to another soldier.  
"I was going to the palace already! I could have escaped you if I wanted, but I did not. Let me go!"  
Ignoring her protests, they returned to the palace only three hours later. After she dismounted, Ravon took her by the arm, if only a little firmly. Chalandra looked at him with disgust.  
"Take your hands off of me!" she demanded, shaking herself free of his grasp and walking in front of him with her head raised high.  
Ravon merely shook his head and led her up to Thane's quarters.  
"My lord," he said, trying to gain his attention.  
Thane stood on the balcony, looking out at the gardens. His hair was pulled back, as always, but the light breeze gave it a little movement. It was silent, other than the melodic birdsong that almost always filled the air. He wore his usual ratty clothes, the worn canvas shirt and leather pants. Slowly, he turned around, fearful that they would have failed him yet again. The moment he laid eyes on her, his eyes filled with tears.  
"Chalandra!" he cried out, rushing to her though his weakened state still lingered.  
He was upon her instantly, kissing her passionately and running his fingers through her hair. When he tried to take her hand, he noticed the bindings around her wrists.  
"What is this?" he demanded, taking her hands and lifting them up to show Ravon, "Unbind her!"  
Ravon nodded and pulled out his knife to cut the rope with. Thane shook his head looked on him with disgust, angry that he had done something so offending. They tied her like a criminal, his beloved fiancée. Bowing his head and lowering his gaze, the man looked like a scolded dog as he cut her wrists free.  
"Apologies, my lord, it was merely a precaution to assure that she was returned to you safely."  
He shook his head, showing his obvious displeasure with the man. Then, Thane took Chalandra back into his arms and kissed her forehead.  
"Did you even think that she would try to escape? Honestly, she has the fastest horse in the stable, she must have been headed back to the palace when you found her. I am ashamed of you."  
"You are correct, my lord, she was headed back to the palace when we found her. I apologize, My Lady Chalandra."  
"It is alright-" she began.  
"Come back here tomorrow at eight in the morning!" Thane interrupted.  
Bowing his head a little lower, Ravon turned to leave, feeling terrible for what he had done. Once the door closed him, Thane softened and turned back to Chalandra.  
"I cannot believe that he did that to you, I am sorry," he apologized, inspecting her wrists.  
"It is fine, it really is," she assured him, "If you could get my weapons back though, that would be appreciated."  
"He took your weapons?"  
"Only the ones they could find," she said with a mischievous smile.  
"But that does not matter. Thane, you are healed! You are on your feet, not lying in that bed suffering," she marveled, touching lower right abdomen, where the wound had been.  
It was no longer rotting but was clean and had been stitched up by the doctors.  
"For two days now. I woke up in cold sweat, but I woke. I called for you, over and over again, but you were gone. Where were you? Please tell me you did not try to find whatever had done that to me."  
“I believe we should sit, as it is rather a long story."  
"Very well," he agreed nervously.  
Thane sat down on the couch, and she sat in the chair directly across.  
"Where did you go? What did that to you?"  
"I cannot tell you. I simply cannot,” he protested.  
"I do not think trying to protect me matters, as I believe we ended up in the same place. I believe I found where you were and what you were doing."  
"You could not have, as you would have been killed."  
"Would I though?" she asked.  
"Not a single of my men made it out alive, only I survived, and it injured me greatly."  
"But perhaps I did. Nothing is impossible," she suggested.  
"I pray you did not, but go on, tell me."  
"I went to the town, where we met, and asked around about where you were headed. I learned that you were headed for the peaks, but no one knew why. So, I took Avaleth and rode to the mountains. What mountains are those?"  
"The Wintrop, The Winter Peaks," Thane answered.  
From across the table, she could tell his hands were trembling.  
"I left Avaleth at the bottom of the slopes and went up on foot. I found it. I found the cave, where you had been. I was afraid, but even more I was angry. I spoke to it, whatever it is. He told me his plans, the plans he has to conquer our lands and slay our people," she explained, her fear and horror causing her eyes to glisten with tears.  
"What? What are you talking about?" he asked, panicked.  
"Whoever he is, he has been controlling the men. He has built up armies great enough to slaughter the Dendä, and he intends to."  
"What? This is nonsense, a mastermind would never reveal his plans? You cannot possibly have met him. He would have taken you," he reasoned.  
"He tried, but he failed," she answered firmly, proud of her newfound strength.  
"In what way?"  
"He wanted me to touch my necklace, the one you gave me, and I lost. He had it," she recalled.  
"I know. I put it there."  
"What? Why?" she asked.  
"He had infected you. Not greatly, you were too strong, but enough. That is what made you disgraced. That necklace drew the darkness out of you, giving you strength and preventing him from ever hurting you again. When we put it in that cave, it allowed him to take shape, a new form. He can infect the hearts of men from in there but cannot hurt anyone else. You are safe."  
"Why did he want me though? I am nothing special. He claimed I was, but I am not," she protested.  
"You are special to me, but I do not know. Perhaps that will be revealed in time."  
"We must leave the palaces though, it is not safe here any longer," she encouraged.  
"I will call a meeting, tomorrow, to decide our fate. If he is as strong as he claims he is, then we must leave and take refuge elsewhere."  
"The towns of men, many of them only want peace."  
"That is possible, but I do not have the authority to do anything yet," Thane sighed, realizing there was more to this than he had realized, "But I am glad you are back, safe and without injury. I was worried, Chalandra. I was so worried."  
"Whatever he is, can it actually escape from that cave? I mean what is keeping it there? And who is he?" she drilled.  
"It can. It can corrupt the hearts of men and make them mad. It is likely that it is also powerful enough to leave that place, but I do not know for sure."  
"Are we safe? Are all your people safe?"  
"Not even a little. But I will protect you to the end," he promised.

In the following days, Thane called a meeting together so to decide the fate of the Dendä. For two days Chalandra and Thane had discussed what was likely to come of such an act, but neither were able to foresee its reality. Fear of the unknown kept Chalandra up at night, as she was deathly afraid of the possibilities. Unlike many, she understood the weight of the situation. It could in fact lead to the death and destruction of the Dendä, if they did not tread carefully. On the morning of the council, Thane came by early, only to find her sitting out on the balcony, daydreaming as she looked over the gardens.  
"Chalandra, it starts soon, you need to get ready."  
Quickly, she came about her senses as her body was always tense with worry.  
"It is not wise that I should be allowed to attend. Those matters are not of my knowledge, and it is likely that I would cause an outrage among the nobles."  
"I do not care. You are my fiancée, and nobody has any right to tell me with whom I should spend my time. You, someday, will be married to me, and then you most certainly will be attending such things with me. Besides, there is no harm in trying to get them to accept you now."  
"Please, do not force this upon them. I will not be attending at least today. That is my final decision," she said firmly before letting silence rule for a moment, "I have told you the story many a time, you know it as well as I now. After the meeting, you can tell me everything that happened before everyone else is informed."  
Frustrated by her stubbornness, Thane left without saying anything else. When she wished to be, she was so understanding, but when she wanted to be stubborn or headstrong, it was best to let her be. During the meeting, Chalandra paced the floor, anxious to hear news of the choices made. Her heart warned her that something terrible was bound to happen, though she did not know what. The fear of the Dendä's end left her breathless, fearing it would be her fault if they should perish. She knew Thane would brush aside her fears, as they were rather irrational. However, after her experience with the nameless power, she started having more faith in irrational and outrageous thoughts and beliefs.


	23. Speculation

Throughout the day, Chalandra ate and drank very little, desperate to know what was happening at the council. She feared the nobles would be caught up in some petty debate, as they tended to do so. Or rather, it was each noble in turn persecuting Chalandra and Thane for his choices.  
Several times, Chalandra considered joining Thane, but finally talked herself out of it. Late into the evening, Thane returned, looking tired and short tempered. Though she could tell he was irritated with whatever had happened during the day, she had no doubt he would keep all his promises to himself and still be kind to her. When he saw her, he pulled himself together a little and smiled.  
"Good evening," he greeted, glad to see her.  
After calling for a servant to bring them dinner, he embraced her.  
"How did it go?" she asked, already knowing the answer from his mannerism.  
"All those nobles never get anything done, never!" he sighed, kissing the top of her head before heading over to the table and waiting for his food.  
"And?"  
"We have to meet again tomorrow, because they are so incapable to do anything in a reasonable time. Even things that may define our history if we do not act quickly."  
"Would you permit me to join you tomorrow?" Chalandra inquired, “Perhaps I might be able to provide some needed insight into the gravity of this current situation.”  
"I would love you to, but you were right. Half the morning was spent with them ridiculing you and my life choices."  
"What does that matter?" she replied, "I can handle it. Besides, I was not the one who got into a fight because I was angry about comments made about me."  
"Perhaps you can handle it, but either way I do not want you to hear the things they say. They are unbearable and completely out of line," he vented.  
"I will be fine. I think you need me there more than anything," she said with a smile, "But tell me where the kingdoms currently stand."  
"They want to go to war," he sighed.  
"What?"  
"Yes, they want to go to the war they cannot win."  
"For what reason?" she exclaimed.  
"Pride, it is all about their ridiculous pride."  
"That cannot be allowed. I am going tomorrow."  
Thane smiled a little, now knowing that there was nothing he could do to prevent her attendance. She was a strong woman and would be able to bear their injustices with an unwavering grace. However, he did not want to see her have to. Anything he could shelter her from, he did. That was part of the promise he made to himself and to her, that he would protect her from anything he could. And yet, at this time, she was exactly what the council needed. Sometimes, she seemed like more of a ruler than he was. She had the most extraordinary mind and therefore the capacity to act and think in manners even the king could not.

Like the day prior, Thane woke her before dawn so to give her enough time to prepare for the council. She rose without complaint, but with butterflies in her stomach. Having chosen her outfit the night before, Chalandra simply slipped out of bed and into the gown. It was a beautiful deep violet, made of silk and a sheer fabric of the same color. The sleeves were white lace, but with purple cloth underneath to prevent her from getting cold. The white lace was also sewn onto the waist of her dress, and on the neckline. The dress, like most of her others, with a flat skirt rather than one that extended out. The skirt was the purple silk, with the sheer fabric of the same color overlapping it. Sewn onto the silk were tiny white diamonds, scattered out and used sparingly but incredibly stunning nonetheless. Her shoes were white lace covering purple silk, to match the dress.  
Once she was dressed, one of her handmaids came in to help her do her hair. It was a rather simple style, but elegant. A large portion of the front of her hair on either side was pulled to the back and pinned securely down. Then, her maid took several small purple flowers, a color that perfectly matched her dress, and worked them into her hair in the back, where it had been pinned down.  
Several minutes later, Thane returned to her door and escorted her to the balcony where the meeting was to be held. The layout was beautiful, but nothing like previous events she had been to. If it was not such a serious time, she would have admired the beauty. However, her mind was set on the task ahead, not on such frivolous things. Other nobles slowly arrived. That was one thing she hated, many of the nobles were always late. Alya arrived soon, and took the head of the table, next to his son. He nodded to Chalandra, offering her that small respect.  
"I am glad you joined us today," he said, "This meeting needs a mind like yours."  
Thane looked at his father, puzzled by his comment.  
"Just yesterday you were letting her be ridiculed though she was not here, now you say that?"  
"I have a duty to keep the peace, and to not take sides on such a matter as this. However, when you were infected, I learned that Chalandra has a far greater mind than many whom I know." he said honestly, though he did not mention that it was in fact earlier that he had grown fond of Chalandra.  
"I cannot believe this," Thane muttered under his breath, obviously shocked.  
Chalandra offered a small, but sly smile, confirming the statement.  
"Yes, well, she is a very intelligent and well-educated woman, worthy of such a man as you are. However, I cannot show my feelings for her to the public, it could cause an uproar, which is the last thing we need right now," Alya sighed.  
"Knowing you approve of her in private is more than I ever expected and certainly a great relief," Thane marveled, shocked by the news.  
Almost all of the nobles had arrived, and very few empty seats were left by the time the meeting begun. They brought out food, some breakfast for all present to enjoy. As the nobles trickled in, they made comments about Chalandra's presence, but nothing happened that was more than expected. However, when the servants started to bring out the food, one woman in particular, a Water Lord's daughter, made a statement to Thane directly.  
"Oh, Thane, should your fiancée not be serving us this breakfast? That is her place after all, is it not?" she snickered  
Instead of replying, Thane began eating, ignoring her rudeness. She was the woman Alya had intended Thane to marry, many years back before he turned to his own path. Ever since, she had been especially bitter towards Chalandra, though her normal attitude was not much better. After she had started the ridiculing, several others joined in.  
"She is right, is she not? You were a slave for some years. Perhaps that is a better place for you rather than sitting at the right hand of the king's son?"  
"You swine, how could you live with yourself to sit next to a man of such rank? You must be ashamed of yourself!"  
"I do not believe she really loves him, not for a second. She just wants power and money, nothing more. She does not care about him at all!"  
Finally, drawing near to the end of her patience, Chalandra took a deep breath. Slowly pushing her chair back, she stood up. The room fell silent, not expecting her to do anything in response to their remarks.  
"I would like to let you all know that your comments have in fact been acknowledged. I have heard them all time and time again, and understand you want nothing more than to ridicule me. This is no time for such frivolity. I know that you do not believe this is my place, but I feel as though I have earned it more than all of you. You may not agree. However, I would be the last person in this room to say such a thing. Before the past week, I would not have made such a comment, yet now I feel confident that I have every right to. I was the one, if you were not informed, who discovered the information regarding the plans of men. I was the one who put myself at danger for the sake of Thane. In doing so, I learned the vital information that has led to this meeting. For that reason, I ask that you keep your comments to yourself, and focus solely on the situation at hand.  
"I hope that you all will understand how grave this time is, and how much attention it really needs. I know you do not believe it to be my place, but I will see to it that today, we do give our full selves to this worthy cause. Yesterday, I did not attend as a courtesy to you all, but that was a mistake. All you did was speak ill of me in my absence. In addition, you decided you would rather go to war than to give up your pride. I am here to inform you that such an idea is folly! I will not allow us to leave this room choosing such a fate. I may not have always been treated well under this roof, but I will see to it that the Dendä are safe. Additionally, if anyone wishes to make comments about how unfair I am, or how unworthy I am, please, feel free to do so outside of this room. Those of us who can overlook the differences in our pasts wish to work towards an important solution and have no time for your frivolity. If you are constantly making comments about me or anyone else here, I will excuse you from our meeting and you will not be permitted to return."  
With those words, there was a brief outcry: "What? You have no authority to do so!"  
“I do. Whether King Alya, Lord Thane, or I excuse you, I will make sure that you are not seen in here again, under consequence of imprisonment," she corrected. "Now, for the duration of this meeting, you will speak civilly of your fellow nobles, even those you do not agree with. This is no time for arguing. If anyone has any questions regarding the information I gathered, do not hesitate to ask. I am not an outcast any longer, I am equal with all of you and expect to be treated as such. Finally, with regard to the comments made that I simply made Thane love me for power and wealth. Any of you who know my story know this is false. I met Thane when he lived in a small village, a village of men. He never revealed his identity to me until well after we were engaged and already speaking of the wedding. With that said, I hope you can understand that I do truly love him and would not want anyone else in this world. He is the man I love, and I loved him just as much before I knew who he really was. I have no intentions of using him for power or wealth. That is all I have to say, and I hope I am permitted to remain here and occasionally provide guidance to this council and the choices it makes."  
Once she was seated again, several of the nobles rolled their eyes, and a great many others looked at her with astonishment and shock. For less than a minute, the room was silent, only as long as it took them to process what had happened moments before. One man finally addressed the previous remarks made by Chalandra. It was the king of the Fire Realm, a man known for his temper.  
"High King Alya, you cannot possibly allow this slave girl to continue such a masquerade, as though she rules us. Get her out of here before she disgraces all of our kind! She has no authority over any of us, and now she is acting like our superior, the one who presumes they will be leading this council! Be gone with her!" he demanded.  
Before anyone else was able to start supporting him, Alya interrupted.  
"Sit down before you embarrass yourself," he said harshly, his tone flat, but without any indication he would be giving anyone grace.  
"You cannot possibly allow her to act in such a manner," he protested.  
"I mean what I said," he reaffirmed, his voice becoming much harsher. "Now sit, or I will have you thrown from this council yourself."  
"You honestly intend to carry out her little speech?" he challenged.  
"Chalandra, though she may come from humble origins, is in fact a very wise and intelligent creature. Her words were true when she said she was the one to have gained the information. No other could have survived and gained such great knowledge. You owe her respect for that and a great number of other things,” he answered, "Thane, please escort him from the room and see to it that he is not permitted to re-enter this room."  
"With pleasure," Thane replied, rising from his seat, bowing to his father, and walking across the room to collect the protesting man.  
Taking him firmly by the arm, he led him from the room and had a quick word with the guards. Upon returning to his seat, he kissed the top of Chalandra's head, purely out of instinct. In that moment, those gathered began to understand. They realized that Thane and Chalandra did in fact have an honest and pure love, not one that was likely to fail or fall short the test of time.  
"Now, we may begin," Alya announced, "Please disregard yesterday's idea of open war. As Chalandra has mentioned, it is something that in fact will only lead to the death and destruction of our people. We will find another solution. Our pride cannot be put before the lives of our citizens. Today, let us consider other options, and how they may affect our future."  
After her speech, the table had been completely silent, save the occasional sound of someone eating. They were stunned, and afraid to offend any of the three a second time.  
"Anyone, care to bring forward suggestions? Complaints about my previous ruling?" Alya asked, trying to get someone to speak.  
Finally, the Air King stood up.  
"I request permission to speak on behalf of the idea of going to war, that you just overruled."  
"Permission denied, I only overruled that a moment past, there are other options yet to be discussed."  
"My lord, you simply cannot allow our pride to be diminished and our long, prosperous rule to be given up for the sake of peace. Men have long waited to claim the right to rule the lands, and we have kept them at bay by blood, do not give that up now!" he protested.  
"Sit down. I made a ruling. Is this really about power? Are you honestly that shallow that you would be willing to risk our entire livelihood for the sake of pride and power? Men, woman, even children would all be slaughtered. War is out of the question unless it is the only option we have, which at this time, it is not."  
"Alya-" he protested.  
"Sit down!" Alya interrupted, his voice harsh.  
Embarrassed and angry, the man took a seat, trying his best to keep a stolid appearance though his eyes, full of hate, betrayed him. His mouth was pressed firmly together, and his left hand was clenched into a tight fist.  
"Anyone else?" Alya asked.  
Timidly, the King of the Earth Realm rose from his seat.  
"My lord, permission to bring forward a new proposition?" he asked.  
"Permission granted."  
"Many thanks, my lord and High King," he said with a bow of his head.  
His voice was sincere. Of all the kings and rulers, he was the youngest, having taken over the throne a mere two hundred years prior. Partially attributed to his young age, he worked very hard to make a better life for his people. In his kingdom, slavery and poverty was virtually nonexistent as a result of his labors. Oftentimes, he could be seen out on the streets, as well as the streets of the lands of men, passing out bread and other good such as blankets. Unmarried and single, he was considered to be of lowly rank, given his young age and immaturity as king. However, he was far more of a king that many others present could ever be. Humility and sincerity were traits he had worked hard to establish, as he had been rather lordly in his young age. Now, he had managed to do great work, and had taken a very rightful throne as king. Though many considered him great and many of his citizens adored him, others hated him as much as others loved him. They considered him unfit, too young, frivolous in giving away money, and rather unattractive. The last may have very well been true, as he was klutzy and one of lesser features. Many kings conformed to a certain grace, which he lacked greatly in. Thane and he used to be close friends, as they were often excluded from the same gatherings. His name was Trydel, one of the most civilized and respectable men around the table, despite the popular rumors. The thoughts in his mind were purer than many, being much of the same nature as Thane's mind but without the same distraction that Thane suffered in Chalandra.  
"My lords and ladies," he began, looking around the room to address and pay respects to everyone gathered, both above and below him in status.  
For a moment, his eyes rested on Chalandra and Thane, and he could not help but wonder if he would one day might be as blessed as his superior. His childhood friend had found himself a great woman, one he was envious of, and should he find half a great a mind as she, he would be truly blessed indeed. Yet he did not envy the man. Chalandra was a great mind, but she belonged with Thane. Simply, he wanted one of his own someday when the world was still, and war did not close in.  
"I bring forth a proposal to the solution of the current issue at hand. We are risking open war with the legions of men, for the sake of your pride. This is outrageous. The lives of our people are worth so much more. They are capable of so much more than simply slaughter. We must attempt to make peace with the armies of men. Perhaps some terms can be agreed upon, and with that, we would be able to prosper once again."  
The King of the Air Realm rose from his seat.  
"My lord, request to counter argue this proposition."  
"Denied, allow another to support him first," Alya shot.  
Thane stood.  
"Father, permission to support the previous movement?"  
"Permission granted, to be followed by the counter from Erdal," Alya answered, gesturing to his rival who had been so vocal in the last hours.  
"Thank you," Thane said, turning to the table.  
"I wish to support the solution brought forward by Trydel, as it seems to allow us some means other than war. An attempt at peace is certainly a first step. We will likely be able to come to terms, given that the men only want money, land, or power, all things we have an abundance of. If it is separation they want, that is also something we should be willing to sacrifice. If they wish to strike out on their own and fall into ruin, let them learn the lesson. We cannot control them, and we have not the armies to overthrow the rebel groups. It is likely that they do not even know that which they seek, willing to go to war for. They probably wish attention, and to be heard. They do not realize what they are doing, so it may be a simple matter of a resolution. A bargain should be able to be reached with very little cost to us. Whatever cost it is, it is one we should pay. Nothing can come before the lives of our citizens, those who look to us for protection and security."  
Giving a small half bow to his father, Thane took his seat again, signaling that he was finished. The moment he sat, Erdal stood up.  
"None of you can be so foolish as to believe that the armies of men will be so easily bought off? Also, why should we pay such a rebellion for security that we already have? Our armies are better trained than any other in this world, they cannot defeat us! We must be willing to sacrifice some of their trivial lives for the greater good!" he announced without any kind of remorse.  
Immediately, at his words, Chalandra shot up from her chair.  
"What did you say?" she snapped, cutting him off.  
"We simply cannot be willing to give up our power, land, or wealth for the sake of peasants. Their lives only exist to serve us, whether that be in living or dying for us, I cannot be the judge. They belong to us, in a sense, and we certainly cannot be expected to sacrifice our comfort for their lives." Erdal repeated, unconcerned by his terrible words.  
"Basically, their lives are meaningless," he clarified, intentionally baiting Chalandra.  
"You villain. This entire time you have been calling me the swine, when all this time, it was you. Do you even hear the words you speak? You are saying that we should allow all the people to fall, dying at the feet of the enemy for your sake."  
"Yes, yes, I am. They do not mean anything, not really."  
"You can say anything you want about me, but do not dare say such things about our own people. You have no right to decide whether they should live or die for you. They are alive, they are their own people. You are corrupt, you are wicked. How can you even live with yourself for saying such untrue and wretched things! Say anything you want about me, but do not say that about them! They have lives, families! Do you honestly move to sacrifice children for the sake of your own comfort? If that is the case, I move to have you removed from this meeting, and under further investigation, from your throne," she snapped back.  
"What? You cannot do that. You have no right, it is my right as king to protest any movement I want and to say whatever I wish to defend my rule."  
From across the table, Trydel stood up.  
"I second, if permissible, my lord."  
Before, he had not wanted to get involved as others would believe he was under Chalandra's command, but now he felt comfortable. Thane stood.  
"I as well. Father?"  
Nodding, Alya pondered for a moment.  
"Erdal, please remove yourself from this council. At this time, we will not be investigating to remove you from your throne, but for the duration of this meeting, you are forbidden from any actions within your palace, subject to be extended."  
"My lord, you cannot do this under the circumstances. Chalandra spoke out of turn, thereby invalidating the action."  
"I second," said his wife, speaking for the first time.  
"No, in reaction your proclamation, her response was justified. Please leave," Alya answered, motioning to the door.  
"You are disgraceful," Erdal hissed before storming across the room and slamming the door behind him.  
His wife gave a disapproving and challenging glare around the table, landing on Chalandra. Unlike many of the others, she held her gaze, even as the queen narrowed her eyes. Frustrated that she was unable to intimidate Chalandra with her stare, she shot up and followed after her husband, a second door slam following the first.  
Shaking his head and laughing to himself, Alya looked up from his feet and down the strait of the table.  
"Now that is through with, the children weeded out, we can deal with the affairs at hand.”.  
Thane rose.  
"Permission to bring forth a new proposition, father?" he requested.  
"Granted," he replied.  
"I do not mean to bring down the previous movement, as I fully support it. However, I do wish to point out a rather deadly and dangerous flaw. If men will not have peace, what will we do? We are left without guidance on this matter. I purpose that if a peace bargain cannot be struck, we abandon the palaces with all that we can, and learn to live in the lands of men. I know, it is not something we would like to do, but it may yet be necessary to preserve the lives of our citizens. Their well-being must be our first priority, not even our own lives must come above them. Contrary to what Erdal wishes to do, we must surrender, but not in the usual fashion. We can be divided, only several families moving into towns, all of us spread out across the world. Divided, they will not be able to destroy us, if that is their sole intention. We would be able to become part of their world. It is not preferable, but is it possible, and the best way to ensure our survival. In the towns, we will be able to raise our own families, and create new lives. They will be without many of the luxuries many of us have grown so accustomed to, but we would be alive. If they wish to tear us apart, make it impossible. Within their very lives is the best place to ensure that we will live on. They cannot possibly find us, should we choose to take this path. We would literally vanish."  
One man, a Lord in the Fire Realm, stood up.  
"Permission to point out a singular flaw, my lord?" he asked Thane.  
"Of course," he replied, raising his hand and gesturing towards him.  
"Thank you. I do not wish to banish your proposition, though it is not one I am in support of, however, you have overlooked a very important detail. How would we all leave our palaces? There are thousands of us, and though our numbers are low at this time, it would be easy to attack us on the road, as we try to travel to safety. How do you purpose we avoid slaughter then?"  
"Sadly, that is a risk we must take. The chances that we would escape and leave undetected are far greater than if we go to war. We put ourselves at their mercy, and pray that as we leave through the pass, they do not find us."  
"Can we really place that much risk on this?" he challenged.  
"We have no other choice. A first group will be sent out, and after they are safely through, the remaining half will be summoned through. We can leave through the great canyon that has always served as a passageway between the lands of our kingdoms and the realms of men. The few villages which are within the bounds of our lands with only take a few families, in case, as you say, something goes awry. Hopefully, that will eliminate the risk of our complete slaughter. All our lands must be emptied. However, even if we are killed, there are a great number already integrated into man's society. The only question is if they will remember that they have power. Being surrounded by men, they are likely to adopt their ways and forget their true identity after many years of being within their walls."  
"Would they eventually lose their immortality?"  
"Doubtful, but possible. At least our great race will live on in that form," Thane sighed, troubled but knowing the risk had to be taken.  
Realizing that there was in fact nothing else to be done, the Fire King sat down. Chalandra turned to Alya, her eyes filled with tears. They were right, they were, in attempting to make peace and then abandon the palaces, yet something still felt awry. In the dark, in the future, there was something waiting, though she was unable to pinpoint the origins of the feelings of unrest.  
“It seems we have reached a decision,” she said softly.  
"It appears we have," Alya replied.  
And with his words, the meeting came to a close.

In the days that followed, a messenger was sent out. Thane and his father, along with Chalandra's help, had composed the proposal, which mostly consisted of offering unlimited land, money, and power should they ensure the safety of the Dendä people, and promised not to harm those in the lands of men. One week after the messenger was sent out, there was a reply. The reading of the response once again gathered the Dendä together.  
Seated around the great table yet again, the nobles and highest lords of the lands sat anxiously awaiting the reading of the reply. Alya took his seat last, and was handed the letter, sealed in red wax with no emblem printed in it, only the letter D. Hands shaking, Alya broke the seal, causing complete silence across the room. Slowly, he pulled it out and unfolded it to find writing in messy, dripping red. The letters were written carelessly and in great moderation, not what one would expect from a proposition so grand or a matter so great.  
"To the Dendä swine who live on our rightful land, eat our food, and rule our people," Alya began.  
Instantly, all those gathered realized there would be no peace, but they would be forced to leave.  
"We will not spare those who do not own us but act as though we are theirs. Neither will we leave you to live in peace.”  
One of the propositions in the letter sent to the men was that the Dendä are left alone, and stay away from the affairs of men, forever separating the two races.  
"You will surrender completely to us, or you will be slaughtered. We will kill you all. If you surrender, we will leave you alone, but demand a tribute of food, the right to live within your palaces, complete authority over you, and the right to take any as slaves that we choose. If you do surrender, come through the pass as you plan, and we will allow you to live amongst us, but you first must register within that town. Additionally, please know that if you refuse, you will end as your messenger did, whose blood was used to write this letter. That is all that is written," Alya announced, turning to the table.  
"They know of our plan then," Thane muttered forlornly. "Do we surrender?"  
"We have no other choice. It is the only way to save our people," Chalandra answered.  
For some reason, the news did not come as a surprise, and her heart warned her that to do so was to put themselves in great danger, yet there was no other choice.  
"Then our fate is in their hands. The idea that we will be forced to register in the towns in troubling, as they will then be able to weed us out at will. Naturally, we will attempt to conceal our presence as best as possible. Still, we leave in two days, the first half must be ready at that time. Thane, Chalandra, Trydel, and I will accompany them. The Water and Earth kingdoms will be the first to go, the others will follow a fortnight after," Alya decided.  
With that the final meeting of the Dendä nobles ended, as there was nothing more to be done about the situation, nothing but to hope. Together, Chalandra and Thane returned to their room, spirits low and hopes for peace, crushed.

In the light wind, her hair flew up, though only a touch, while her dress trembled at the wind’s command. He leaned against the doorpost, unable to take his eyes off her beauty. Finally, he stepped through and met her, wrapping his arm around her waist.  
“My darling, despite how terrible the news was today, I must ask you,” he started, taking a deep breath, “I want you to marry me. I want our wedding to be now. As soon as we are able, for we might not have the opportunity to be wed for a very long time. I want to make good on my vow to you as soon as we can, for I fear the possibility of it will soon pass us by.”  
Shaking her head a little, Chalandra turned her gaze towards him.  
“Surely you must see why we cannot. This is hardly a possibility now. We cannot marry and pretend everything is alright when our people are soon going to be fighting for their freedom, if not their survival.”  
“I cannot bear the thought of having our wedding be postponed again. I will marry you tomorrow if you so choose, just tell me that I might make the arrangements.”  
“We must wait. It is not only you who does not wish to delay any longer, but in order to prepare for the terrible things we are soon to face, we must wait. Your people must come first. You must attend to their needs and ensure their safety, even if it be through war, before we make our vows to each other.”  
“I do not want to do that.”  
“But surely you must see why we cannot be wed now? We will be, in the future, just not now,” she asked, her wide eyes looking up to him with concern.  
“I do,” he answered reluctantly, for he knew the next morning, they were leaving their home, forever.


	24. The Known World

"Chalandra, wake up, it is time to go," Thane said softly, bushing a long strand of hair out of her face before kissing her cheek.  
Rolling over, Chalandra frowned.  
"So now is the day we leave everything behind us," she mumbled, closing her eyes for a brief moment.  
"It will be alright. I will protect you to the end," Thane promised.  
"That is what I am afraid of," she muttered, kissing his lips, "I fear nothing any longer, only our parting."  
With a deep sigh, she rose to her feet and crossed the cold marble floor to her wardrobe. Ducking around the corner, she changed into her riding clothes. She wore her durable but flexible and light black riding pants, of what fabric she did not know. Her shirt was dark blue, with built in leather bowstring guards that went up to her elbow. Over her shirt, with Thane's assistance, she fastened her metal breastplate, then tied off her leather vest that covered the guard. She pulled back her hair and braided it, then pulled on her leather ankle boots, lacing them up and tying them tightly. Thane wore his usual clothes and failed to wear a breastplate though he had insisted upon her wearing one. However, he did wear leather bowstring guards over his lower arm.  
Before leaving the room, she collected her arsenal of weapons. She had practiced her skills with Thane and found that although her training had not gone beyond a few years when she was young, she had a good deal of skill with the blade and bow. On her left leg, she fastened a small knife, fastened her sword to her left hip, and, once again with Thane's help, attached her quiver of arrows. After looping her bow across her body, she fastened her belt across her waist, complete with several knives. Thane wore a single sword on his hip, but carried a bow and quiver on his back, in addition to the various knives he hid.  
"We must go," Thane urged, taking her by the hand and leading her out the door.  
When they exited the palace, Aearion and Avaleth were held by guards, tacked with simply a nosebandless bridle and a simple leather saddle. Walking up to the palomino mare, Chalandra stroked the white star normally hidden by the mare's long white forelock.  
"Today, we ride but we do not return," she whispered to her horse.  
With the assistance of Thane' cupped hands, Chalandra swung her right leg over before gathering the braided reins. The guard released Avaleth's bit, giving control to the Dendä-maiden. Gently squeezing the mare's sides, she simply turned her mare in a large circle, wanting to wait for Thane to mount before departing from the courtyard. Looking over to Aearion, she saw the seasoned war horse paw the ground but move no more as Thane swung up on the broad-backed bay stallion.  
Once Thane urged Aearion into a slow trot, Chalandra touched her heels to the palomino again, sending the small mare into a slow, graceful trot. As they passed through the tall, ornate gate that led into the palace, she saw Aearion turn around. Following his action, Chalandra gently pulled Avaleth to a halt and then around to face the palace.  
"One last look," Thane said with remorse, his voice sorrow filled.  
This was the first time he had really, truly been sad. Before, he had been sad, but never like this. This was the pain of leaving his homeland, possibly leading his people to a mass slaughter and having no power over the fate of his fiancée.  
Studying the tall gate that stood before them, Chalandra let a small sigh escape her. The entrance to their kingdom was covered in delicately carved detail, made of the strong oak that surrounded the palace. Today, deep, dark blue flowers of all kinds had been laid and entwined in the gate, the Dendä color of mourning. Letting her eyes rise to the palace itself, Chalandra felt tears fill her eyes as she looked upon its vast halls for the last time. The turrets seemed to touch the sky, reaching high into the clouds. Every balcony had the dark flowers and banners spread out, nearly covering the palace in blue.  
"We must go, I can bear it no longer," Thane said after a moment that felt like eternity.  
Nodding solemnly in agreement, Chalandra turned Avaleth back around, whispering one final 'farewell' under her breath. Guiding Avaleth, Chalandra pressed the mare to her gentle rolling canter. Though her gait was significantly shorter, given her smaller build, the palomino was able to keep perfect pace with the stallion. Another gentle nudge from her master sent the small mare into a slow gallop. Leaning closer against her neck, Chalandra gave her mount more rein, allowing her steed to pick up a faster gait. Looking over from between the wisps of white mane, Chalandra saw Avaleth was slightly ahead of the bay. Normally, Chalandra would enjoy such a ride, but no today. Her heart was heavy, and her mind focused on their leaving. Even such a quick pace did not lift her spirits.

For hours they rode, knowing they would meet the other Dendä there. Thane had wanted to arrive before the last of the group, though they had started to arrive two days prior. After two hours, they saw the golden sand stretch out before them. Chalandra slowed first, then Thane reined in his stallion. Already most of the Dendä had arrived, and some and even started to enter the pass, a great canyon that separated the world of men from the world of the Dendä. The rest of the first group would be arriving by nightfall, as most of the group was on foot. Some of them were on horseback as well, but they were instructed to stay with the others.  
Again, they pushed their horses into a brisk trot, and led the way to the first night's camp. They had chosen the ruins of a city from long ago. A watchtower of a city between the lands of men and Dendä. Once it had been a great Dendä city, yet it was long before the struggle for power between the kingdoms that it had been used. After the Dendä strictly divided their kingdoms, they abandoned their cities of old for new palaces, new kingdoms "untainted" by the other kingdom’s influences. And so, their great city of white polished marble now grew over with vines. Their beautiful, elaborate city which once teemed over with life, died. Yet even now, in its ruin, it held life. It provided shelter for the refugees.

From one of the crumbling watchtowers, Thane watched his people slowly trickle into the ruins. On his arm was Chalandra, fair and true. She refused to leave him, no matter what he urged. She huddled against him, sheltering herself from the biting cold with his warmth.  
"We may have had a few days to prepare, but we have almost nothing. The food will run scare, it already is. The people did not think to bring their own supplies, they assumed we would provide for them," he sighed.  
"Do we not have the supplies?" she asked, concerned.  
Dendä could survive years without food, but they were journeying, and they would grow weaker.  
"Do not worry, Beautiful Light, I will handle it," he assured her.  
Before she could say anything else, he was descending the torrent.  
"Listen, everyone!" he called out, demanding the attention of the crowd, "No matter who you are, not matter your status, no matter what you brought for supplies, these rules will apply. Listen to me, or else face me, challenge me and the king. Feed the woman and the children first, give them the blankets and coats. Let them nearest to the fire. Make sure they have fresh water and are warm and fed. Men, no matter your status, fast if you will. You will not be alone, for I shall not eat until every one of my people has eaten first. Your comfort is not as important as your children's health, and your women's strength. If you are true to your wives, your children, do as I say," he commanded. "Tell everyone the same, all those who cannot hear, or have not yet come in. Tell them they shall face me if they take the food from the children, the woman, or the weak, no matter their status."  
After he had given out his commands, Ravon approached him.  
"Thane, who among your guard will you set on the night watch? I am willing to take a shift, if you wish," he offered, placing his hand over his heart to respect his superior.  
"The sun already lowers in the sky, does it not?" he sighed, "Bar the gates when the last of the Dendä pass through, and set watchmen on the gates and two in every guard tower and edifice. If anything moves, I must be the first to hear of it.”  
"You, my lord?" he asked.  
"Get some rest, Ravon, you will need your strength."  
"Surely, my lord, you do not mean for me to sleep whilst you stand watch and wait for reports of approaching danger?"  
"I will happily take the night watch, you have done enough. I will not sleep either way, so there is no reason for you to stay up as well," he nodded, clapping his commander on the back, "Get some rest after the guards are in position."  
"Thank you, my lord."  
"Ravon, if you find a spare one, send some things for a makeshift bed up to that watchtower? The people will set up their own quarters in the great hall, but if you are able?"  
"For the Lady Chalandra, anything."  
"Thank you," he said, returning to the watchtower with Chalandra.  
She took his arm and pulled herself against him.  
"Get some rest," he instructed, seeing Ravon with some bedthings.  
He brought a small pillow, and two blankets.  
"Thank you, Ravon," she praised, taking the things from him.  
"Of course, my lady," he answered before taking his leave as she spread out the blanket on the floor, then sat down on it.  
The sun slowly slipped behind the horizon, and she lay her head down on the pillow. Thane sat on the edge of the stone railing, watching surroundings. The cold began to set in, and Chalandra shivered once.  
"Are you cold?" Thane asked, noticing her tremble.  
"I am fine." she replied.  
Still, he took off his heavy coat and laid it over her.  
"You need that," she protested, waving his hand away.  
"I am perfectly warm," he assured her.  
"Now get some rest," he instructed, moving to sit on the front of the tower, on the railing.  
Chalandra lay back, under the warmth of the blankets and his coat. Soon, she was able to drift off to sleep, yet the horrible dread of the future still lingered. Throughout the night, Thane kept a careful eye on the surroundings. His keen senses allowed him to see well for great distances, even in the dark of the night. Yet nothing moved. Nothing even breathed. It was silent, completely silent. The calm before the storm, yet he did not know of the storm. If there would be a storm, or if it should be calm. Even now, something lingered. Some cold, some darkness, breathing down his neck. Waiting, a warning, yet he could not pinpoint it. And so he was silent, but kept his ever-careful watch over his fiancée. The woman he loved dearly, for he was afraid for her sake. He would not allow her to be hurt. He would not. He would sooner die than see her suffer again. And he was willing to die to keep her from any harm, all harm. That was his promise to her. The silent, binding promise to her. One that he would carry out at all costs to himself, as long as he should live.

The following morning, Thane woke her as the sun began to rise. As she sat, dazed, he handed her a warm bowl of watery oatmeal. Kissing her head, he stood again and walked back over to the front of the watchtower. Slowly, she choked down the food, as her stomach churned with fear. When she was partially finished, she stood up, wrapping Thane's warm coat around her, and joined his side.  
"Please, have the rest of this. I cannot eat any more," she offered, trying to hand him the food.  
"You will need your strength," he declined, gently pushing it back to her.  
Sighing, she finished her meal. When she was finished, she gathered the blankets she had slept on and handed Thane his coat again. Ravon came up a moment later.  
"My lord, it is time. We should go."  
"It is. Get everyone ready," he instructed.  
Taking Chalandra's hand, he led her down the stairs and out into the courtyard. There, they found their horses and tacked them. Thane gave her a leg up, then swung up himself. Pressing her leg against her, she asked her for a trot, which the mare gave without a fuss. Thane followed behind her. As they rode, she listened to the rhythmic sound of their hooves on the cobblestones, trying to distract her mind from what lay ahead.  
When they entered the canyon, Chalandra and Thane pulled their horses back to a walk. They fell into line with some of the nobles, choosing not to ride up with the royals in the front. The rocky walls extended high into the sky, keeping the canyon cool and shady. On either side of the jagged rocks, plants of various kinds grew in abundance. The grey walls were cloaked in green bushes and grass, leaving very little uncovered. While the ride was not unpleasant, and all manner of Dendä followed behind them, the nagging from Chalandra's heart continued to plague her.  
“Thane?"  
"Yes?" he replied.  
"Is this the right thing to do?"  
"I believe it is. Our world is no longer safe, this is a chance for safety in a new land. Why do you ask?" he sighed.  
"What I mean is, do you believe we will be safe?"  
"Once we are in their lands, yes I do."  
"What about on our journey to reach them?" she pressed.  
"The men have not promised us peace, and so I do not trust them. There is a reason we did not inform them of the time we were leaving."  
"I have this feeling that we are not safe at all. What if they planned for us to try to leave, rather than attack us while we are in our palaces?"  
"That is not the case. They do not know."  
"You keep saying that, but I do not think you realize the danger. Surely you must have considered this before leaving the palaces,” she said in reply.  
"You were one of the ones who advocated for this.  
"I know, but I do not have intelligence as you do, in the ways of our armies. You must have debated this."  
"It was briefly discussed, but not in depth. We were in a hurry."  
"Of all people, you must have thought of this! If you were going to attack, when would you attack? When they were trying to escape, when their forces were divided, or when they were at their full strength in their homeland?"  
"I would attack them when they were divided..."  
"We are divided and gathered now! This is what they wanted all along. The early attacks were merely a distraction, trying to get us to leave. They were not going to attack our palaces, but our people as we fled. We have given them exactly what they want!"  
Thane's face turned to a new panic, one that she had never seen before.  
"Ravon!" he yelled, calling to his second in command.  
He appeared a moment later astride his beautiful black steed. Placing a hand to his chest, he honored his superior before speaking.  
"Yes, my lord?"  
"Send your swiftest scouts ahead through the canyon. This is a trap, not an escape. It is the plan, for us to be trapped here to be slaughtered. If they see anything, anything at all, they are to report back immediately without engaging."  
"Yes, my lord," he answered, turning his stallion around.  
"There, you see? If there is danger, they will find it and we can all return before anything happens. There is nothing to fear," he assured her.  
"Thane, think it through! We have to return now, if we still can. You hold thousands of lives in your hands. They want us in this canyon so we can be trapped, are disorganized, and without our usual weapons. Half of our best warriors were left behind to guard the palaces, and half of the people were left there too. Divided, we can be destroyed by their sheer numbers. Turn them around now!"  
As she spoke those words, coming to the realization that they had walked into a trap, the first shots were fired.


	25. The Fall

For two hours, hell rained down upon them. Arrows fell, killing people where they stood. Following the archery attacks, foot soldiers began to make their way through the long line of people, pushing in. This was a long-anticipated attack, and they were ready. The Dendä did the best to fight them off, but half their warriors had been left behind, and the other half were armed with half their usual weaponry. The soldiers made quick work of many of their people, and now had made their way to where Chalandra and Thane were located. In the first moments of the battle, Thane had drug Chalandra off her horse and pulled her into the safety of a rock ledge. Both returned fire on the archers, trying to defend their people as best they could. But they needed more. Now it was knifework. If they could find their commander, they could create some manner of disorganization.  
It was Chalandra who spotted the leader of the attacks. On a ledge, about a hundred feet up, he stood, signaling to his commanders from above. Pulling out one of her knives, she mounted Avaleth again and turned straight towards him. Quickly, so to prevent him from noticing and stopping her, she charged him down. In seconds, she was on the ledge. She leapt down from the side of her horse as the mare slid to a stop, throwing herself onto the man.  
The attack threw him to the ground. Now, he was helpless beneath her as her knife was pressed firmly against his throat.  
"Scream and you are dead. Make any attempt to get aid, and I will kill you. Am I clear?" she asked, pressing the knife just a little harder.  
Nodding fearfully, the man raised his hands. Thane, who had seen her attack him, rushed onto the scene a moment later.  
"What are you doing?" he asked, rather concerned for her sanity.  
"Holding him hostage," she replied plainly.  
"We want to negotiate, not kill him."  
"Why? He would be better dead," she scoffed.  
"Maybe, but we need him alive."  
"What do you want me to do?"  
"Let him stand and take that knife from his throat," he directed.  
"If I do, he will kill us. That or his men will."  
"No, he is unarmed."  
"His men?" she argued.  
"Know better," he assured her.  
Slowly, she stood up and backed away. The man gave a mocking smile.  
"Oh, I see, you have to obey him. Is he your captain?"  
"I will kill you if you touch him," she snapped.  
"Really? What about if I do this?"  
To taunt her, he stepped forward and poked Thane's arm with one finger. Immediately, Chalandra leapt upon him and wrestled him to the ground. She prepared to cut his throat when Thane pulled her off of him. Somewhat roughly, he pushed her to the side.  
"I said enough!" he yelled to her, angry.  
Reaching down, he offered a hand to the man. Bowing her head, Chalandra sheathed her knife and looked to the dirt.  
"He is your captain then," he chuckled, taking Thane's hand.  
Thane helped him to his feet, though he was not gentle as he did so.  
"You happen to love your captain, don't you? What a naughty girl."  
"He happens to love me, you should know," she shot in reply, glaring at him.  
"Really, because by the way he just treated you, that was not what I assumed."  
"I am his fiancée," she snorted.  
"Are you now?"  
"She is," Thane confirmed, though he reached his arm across her in order to prevent her from attacking the man again.  
"And do you often treat her as such?"  
"He never does."  
"Then why now?" he asked condescendingly.  
"I am having a very difficult time with the current situation. Mostly given that my people are currently being slaughtered."  
"Does that give you a right to treat your woman as such though? She seems to only be trying to help," the man asked, obviously trying to make him upset.  
Instead of becoming angry at the man, Thane responded in a way he did not expect.  
"No, no it does not. I am sorry, Chalandra, I should have never lost my temper," he apologized.  
"Oh, how sweet," he replied, rolling his eyes, "Now what do you want?”  
"For you to leave my people be. This is a massacre."  
"And what do you think we intended?"  
"What is your price?" he inquired.  
"I think you should discuss that with my father. How about we meet up? You find your father, I find mine. Back here in twenty minutes."  
"I cannot trust you."  
"No, you can't but I think your little terror of a woman will take care of that. Also, if I am not mistaken, you are quite the warrior yourself."  
"Try to hurt her and you will find out," he vowed.  
"Fair enough," the man answered with a careless wave of his hand.  
With that, Thane turned his back to the man and mounted his stallion. Chalandra looked at him, surprised that he would turn away from an enemy.  
"Thane, what if he tries to kill you when you are looking away?" she reminded, wide-eyed with fright.  
"He very well may but before he could ever even cut me, I would snap his neck. Look at how scrawny he is. I am a stronger man than he, even if he may be easily underestimated."  
"Is it not still dangerous?"  
"Look around you my love. The ground on which we stand is unstable, the entire sky prepares to fall. Nothing I can do, and no where I can go is safe. He is the least of my concerns. I have only one true worry."  
"And what is that?" she pressed.  
"Nothing I shall burden you with."  
"Our death is upon us. Please, trust me and tell me what you fear," she pressed, though she already knew the answer in her heart.  
"Why do you say such things? This is not our end. I will see you out of here alive if it means the death of all those I swore to protect. I will sooner die trying to protect you than stand by watching as you are slain."  
"You very well know that you would not sacrifice the lives of all your people for mine."  
Taking his horse alongside hers, he placed a hand on her cheek.  
"Now is not the time I would say things in vain. I mean what I said. The lives of all may not be worth the life of one, but it is worth it to me."  
"We are in the middle of battle. Now is not the time to talk nor to choose things like that. It will not come to that fate."  
"It may, Chalandra, and I know what I would choose."  
His words haunted her, causing her to fall silent as they rode into the midst of the battle. Her heart pounded and her feelings raged, causing the world around her to dim. Even with the scream of horses, the clang of crossing swords, and the shouts of men as they fell to the earth in a lifeless heap, her mind wandered elsewhere. He would not, would he? In reality, if the world they knew were to fall, he would not choose her. He could not. She trusted him with every part of her being. He was a good captain and a loyal commander, surely he would not choose her life over the lives of his people.  
Yet somewhere, in the deepest stronghold of her heart, she knew he would. The thoughts that echoed through her mind were a mere mirage, brought forth to veil the painful truth. The man she loved was foolish. He would allow himself to make a terrible choice based on sentiments alone. But it would not come to that, whatever they feared. The negotiation would go well, and peace would be restored. Their people would once again stand tall despite all odds. They always had, and they always would. Through death and ruin and despair, they had prevailed. Why should this time be any different?  
Though her heart warned her otherwise, Chalandra pushed away all thoughts of defeat and darkness. It always made Thane nervous when she acted as such, as he thought she was ill. He meant well, but it only made her more afraid of herself. If he was afraid of something, she very well should be too. Thane was the bravest, strongest man she had ever known, and she was terribly feeble compared to him. Anything that scared him was certainly to be feared. The only times she had ever seen him afraid were when something had to do with her. Her death, suffering to her, anything that in any way might harm her. She always did her best to ease his fears, and they were often unfound, but she was afraid nonetheless.

As Thane tried to locate his father, Ravon approached him. His horse was gasping for breath, and had an arrow hanging from his left shoulder, yet still did his master's wishes in the heart of the battle.  
"My lord, your father was slain!" he cried above the roar of the battle, "I am sorry, but you must Chalandra and ride back to the kingdoms. There may still be time to save them. If anyone is capable of getting back there, it is you. I will try to help as many as possible to escape death, but I do not see this battle ending in our favor."  
"My father is dead?" Thane said, shaken by the words.  
"We have to warn the others. Ravon is right. I am sorry, but we must lament your father later, now we must act to save anyone we can," Chalandra pressed.  
"Thank you, Ravon," Thane muttered wholeheartedly.  
“You have been the most faithful captain," he praised, briefly taking him by the shoulder in a sign of respect.  
Ravon nodded, smiling slightly in the face of his own death.  
"Go swiftly, my lord. I will do all I can here," he encouraged, turning to the task ahead.  
Nodding to Chalandra, they turned their horses to the other side of the canyon and departed at a full gallop. All around them was death. The men pressed in on the Dendä from both sides, and slaughtered as they went. The bodies of the fallen were doused with blood, covered from the slaughter of their fellow victims. Those still left alive were fighting with all they had left but were quickly being worn down. They would not last long. The only reason Chalandra and Thane had been able to get through the lines was their advantage on horseback. Their steeds were swift and of great breeding, tireless and without fear as they charged the ranks of the men.  
Standing in their way was the line of men charged with keeping any from escaping. Both raised their swords and prepared to fight. Trying to avoid being trampled or landed on, some cowered away. Others took the fury of hooves, and still more fell by the sword. However, Chalandra and Thane escaped to the south, leaving all behind to warn others still.


	26. From Amidst the Flames

Once outside the battlegrounds, Thane veered a hard right, taking the rockier, though shorter path. They arrived at the palace only three hours later, their horses foaming with sweat from the hard ride. As soon as they reached the top of the hill overlooking the land of their ancestors, they slowed their horses to a gentle trot, a great relief for their frothy-necked steeds. From the once great city, smoke rose in a steady stream of black that climbed skyward. Now, only several, almost dead, fires burned, having likely been burning for several days. The white stones that once made up the city around the palace were blackened and destroyed, every building brought to its knees. The great archways either stood partially erect or fallen to nothing. There was not one undamaged home or structure; the men had desolated it. The palace itself was torn apart, leaving only small part of the turrets standing.  
From where they looked on at the sorrowful sight, they could see no movement that once had filled the city. All that remained was the crackle of the fire, the rise of smoke, and the occasional crash as another structure fell even further. The moment Thane saw the fate of his homeland, he lowered his head. Kicking his horse hard, he sent it flying towards the ruins at top speed. Chalandra followed him, asking her mare more gently for the same speed.  
When she saw the city in ruins, her heart fell. No matter how arrogant the Dendä had become, or how fallen some of them were, they did not deserve this fate. Thane was in agony, though he would not likely confide in her. She knew time would help to mend the initial wounds, though nothing would ever truly heal his pain. Nothing would ever take away the sorrow he felt, nor the responsibility he took in this fate. He considered it his duty to protect his people, and now they were all dead. He only had her, the lowly maid he had saved from the death she deserved.  
When they were upon the city, the sight become ever more gruesome. The smell of smoke was strong, so strong that they had been able to smell it on top of the hill, and even farther back. Here, on the edge of it, the smell was overwhelming. Finally, Thane slowed Aearion to a walk and dismounted his stallion. Slowly, with great cation, he moved into the city. Chalandra moved to dismount her mare and follow him in, but Thane raised a hand, telling her to stay. On his face, a look of terror and hurt betrayed his usually stolid appearance. She obeyed him but craned her neck to see what he so intently stared at.  
It was then she saw it. The charcoaled, black skull staring out with hollow eyes. Bits of seared flesh and hair still remained on it, but mostly it had been burned off. Despite her horror, she drew in a deep breath very slowly and pretended not to notice. Thane already had enough on his mind. The last thing he needed was her terror. Although she had drawn back a ways, she could still see him as he carefully picked his way around the corpses.  
"Chalandra, are you alright?" he called back, not looking to her as he spoke.  
"I am fine," she lied, her face completely pale from her fright, "Are you?  
"As well as I could be," he replied, his voice shaky and filled with obvious distress.  
"What is it like?" she asked, pretending to not have seen the reality before her.  
"For your sake, I will not answer."  
Her heart pounded, the sound echoing in her ears.  
"Then what are you doing in there?"  
"The only thing I can. I am looking for anyone who is left alive."  
"Are they all dead?" she asked.  
"Far as I can see," he replied softly, his heart crying out for his people.  
The mere sound of his voice, filled with true, utter loss and laced with anger caused her to freeze, sending her feet sinking into the ground.  
"Whatever has happened, it is not your fault."  
Thane did not reply. This meant something even worse. She knew it meant he was letting all his feelings churn inside him, growing stronger and stronger. He blamed the actions of the world of men upon himself, thinking he should have been able to protect an entire race of people.  
“Listen to me, please. Just because you were their captain does not mean this is your fault. If you had been here, you would have tried your hardest to make a difference, but it would not have changed anything. One man, no matter how strong, or how powerful, cannot save an entire race outnumbered by their enemies. Thane, if I do not believe you have accepted this, I am coming with you to make sure you are safe, no matter how dangerous or terrifying it is."  
"It should have been better that I died defending my people to my last breath than betray them and do nothing! That is what I did for them, Chalandra. They put their lives in my hands, and I did nothing!" he cried.  
"You made a choice. Do you regret the choice you made?"  
He was silent for a moment, presumably thinking over his actions.  
"Not for a second. I would not change that for anything. I gave them up for you. It was wrong, it was selfish, but it was my choice. I let thousands of people die to save you. That was my choice, my promise, and my honor. You tried to tell me otherwise, but it never crossed my mind. You are the only life I have, and I do not regret my choice in the slightest."  
"Then do not put yourself at fault for this. You made a choice, now stand by it, though it still did not come to that. You listened to Ravon, and we did the only thing we could. This is not because of some choice, I assure you that. If we had have gone out to meet them head on in war, it would have also ended in slaughter. This was our only chance at peace, and you had to take it," she pleaded.  
"Chalandra! How dare you speak to me that way? My people are gone! Every last one save you! I saved you! If it were not for me, you would be dead, now and a hundred times over! Show me some sympathy!" he yelled.  
With those words, Chalandra had enough. Very slowly and carefully, she made her way into the midst of the cinders. All around her, skeletons reached out for help, immortalizing the last moments of their misery. Raising her gaze, she focused only on Thane ahead of her rather than the death below. Every step was more agonizing than the previous, knowing how terrible the fate of those around her had been. Beside her now was the mostly burned skeleton clutching a charred child to its chest.  
Despite her efforts to avoid looking, she found her eyes staring at the sight. Their blackened flesh still clung to their bodies in some areas, though mostly was eaten off to the bone. The pools of thick, sticky, blood around them testified that they had been slaughtered prior to the fire. Scraps of their clothing, now nothing but various colored threads clung to their remaining flesh, seared to them. The hair of the woman was sparse and singed, but still visible. All around them lay the ashes of what used to be their livelihood. The sight brought tears to her eyes. This was the price paid for a fruitless attempt at peace. How could Thane had chosen for her to live rather than the young innocents? Her life was not worth the cost, and yet the price was already paid. If it were not for her, would he not have ridden out to meet them in battle? Then, would they still breath? Yet in her heart, she knew they would not. Her suggestions and pull over Thane did not cause this. This was their fate. To lie burning amidst the embers of their own city.  
For what felt like an eternity, she stood mesmerized by the woman and child. Finally, she tore herself away, able to bear it no more. Although it seemed like a long time, it had been only a moment since she stood there. Step after step, she moved to Thane. Without realizing it, she held her breath, trying to focus on anything other than the world around her. Her eyes now fixed on Thane, but she saw through him. Finally, she was there, by his side.  
"Why Thane?"  
"Why would you come here?" he asked, reading her emotions within a second.  
He was always skilled at doing so, as though he read her face like a book. He saw the pain, the fear, the sorrow and acted upon it. Instantly, he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. No matter how angry he had been, he was over it now. His face looked to her with a soft concern. He did not move to reprimand her in any way, even though it was common for their time.  
"You needed me, so I came," she answered, lowering her gaze.  
"I told you to stay. It is not right for you to see this."  
"I did as you always have. You needed me, so I came, just as you would have."  
"Why would you think I needed you?" he asked gently, only wishing to know her motives.  
Whatever he had done or said, it frightened her.  
"How could you not? You blame the fall of the Dendä solely on yourself. Of course you need me," she said firmly.  
"I am sorry, I had no right to speak to you in that manner."  
"That is not what plagues me. You think I do not care about your loss, nor do I show you sympathy? I have felt your pain, your loss, your agony. You forget that it is one reason we are standing here now. I watched my mother slaughtered before me. I know what you feel. Even if our people were never kind to me, do you think I do not feel a sense of responsibility for their death? No matter how cruel my previous life may have been, I still feel connected to my people. I feel this loss too. You are not alone now, in your time of need. You never have been, not since we met. I love you and I will do whatever it takes to help you now," she assured him.  
Thane's smile was gentle as he looked to the woman he loved so dearly. Slowly, he raised his hand and placed it on her silken soft cheek. His rough, weathered hand conformed to the perfect shape of her face. Although he may have made the same gesture many times before, this time it had a new sense of joy mingled in it. A wonderful, enduring joy, enough to block out all the pain around them. This was the most pure, wonderful form of love. Untainted and unstained by others, unaffected by the past or the present. This is the love would survive all challenges to the end of time. No matter how hard this day had been, it would end, and they would still have each other.  
In return, Chalandra raised her slender, pale hand and let it rest on his cheek. This is what would and could sustain them though all hardship and all trials; each other. An occasional disagreement, or even an argument could not taint the strength of their bond, no matter how hard it tried. The only thing that could ever come between them was death itself, but perhaps that was to be their fate as all manners of circumstances had already tried to pull them apart without success.  
Their innocent moment lasted only a moment longer before Thane finally moved forward to hug her. He let his hand slip from her face, down her neck, to her back. His other arm found its way to her neck, pulling her into a tight embrace. She buried her face in his neck, pulling herself closer and closer.  
As they embraced, Thane kissed the top of her head before resting his chin on her golden head. For another moment they held each other before Thane moved to kiss her rose-colored lips.  
"I love you, do not ever forget that."  
"I know, I know. I love you too."  
"I am sorry for what I did," he apologized.  
"I forgive you."  
Thane looked around the city. Flames crackled on either side of them, but the fire died lower and lower.  
"I have seen enough," he finally said, pulling her against his chest again in hopes of protecting her from the reality they faced.  
"Do we not need to search for survivors?" she asked, her voice muffled by his embrace.  
"I would doubt anyone would have lived through this firestorm. The world of men are ruthless and without mercy, they would have killed anything that moved."  
"Would it make you feel better to see?" she questioned, knowing his character.  
"Perhaps, but there is no need to torment ourselves with that burden."  
"You will sleep easier. Check best you can, unless you cannot bear it."  
"Will you go back? For my sake, please go stay with the horses. If there is any trouble, yell immediately, call for my aid. I will come. Do not try to face it without me. But please, no matter what happens, stay back there. You do no need to see the suffering of this land," he requested.  
"Be back by nightfall, please."  
"I will," he agreed.  
Kissing once more, they parted their ways; Thane heading forward and Chalandra heading back. She moved past the corpses, who begged for mercy even now, to the exit of the city. In reality, it was just a crumbled section of the wall, but it had served as their way in. Once outside, she rubbed Avaleth's head, then Aearion's. Feeling a slight stinging sensation, followed by another, she slapped at the back of her neck before returning her hand to her mare’s face.  
"It is alright. Thane will be back soon. He has to search the city for those who may have survived. Even though he doubts anyone is still alive, it is the right thing to do, and therefore he is doing it. Do not worry, he will be back by nightfall."  
Avaleth gently nudged her mistress' cheek with her silken muzzle, realizing the sadness that lingered on her voice. The mare nuzzled her arm several times, providing all the comfort she could manage. In return, Chalandra stroked the mare's beautiful golden neck.  
"I am fine, Avaleth. I am fine."

For several hours, Chalandra sat alone, seated on a large grey stone not far from the city's walls. The sky was misty with lingering smoke from the fire, although most of the fires had finally died off. The only thing that happened while she sat there was several bee stings, but otherwise she had to sit in long, agonizing wait. Suddenly, the wall behind her let out a great groan. Startled, she stood up and stepped several feet away. Looking to the top of the wall, she watched in horror as a section of the wall still standing began to collapse. Immediately, she raced away from the wall, trying to avoid being crushed.  
The wall caved in on itself, sending only a small amount of debris to the surrounding areas. The dust settle, and she timidly returned. The wooden beams that once assisted to support the great stone wall had been burned through, causing it to fall soon after. Although the wall would have stood on its own under normal conditions, even without the wooden support beams, the men had torn down much of the precious marble, leaving the structure vulnerable.  
Although a strange dizziness had taken her, making it more difficult to see clearly, she pushed onwards. Upon closer inspection, Chalandra saw a great many corpses had been crushed in the collapse. Their charred bones with flesh seared to them lay all about, broken and in pieces. Even the fading light, she could see the hollow eyes of the victims, still staring up even through the wreckage. Her stomach turned at the sight. So much pain, so much loss, so much suffering, all because of lies and deceit. The misguided treachery of men had brought this ruin. They should pay for their deeds. She would make them pay.  
But how? There was nothing to be done. She alone could do nothing in the face of so much evil, yet she wanted to bring death to them all. In truth, she knew this was impossible, but it was wonderful to fantasize about. The one who would bring justice to those who destroyed her beloved's homeland. Yet, deep inside, she knew it was not her true nature. But perhaps it was. They had brought so much harm to her, surely, she would be granted the right to bring them harm. In that moment, she had never desired vengeance more.  
But what would Thane do? He would live in peace and never harm the world of men, simply for her sake. That was what she would have to do as well, lest they should die. Was it not better to die for the sake of their people than to live a thousand lifetimes together? No. Thane sacrificed everything for her, so they would now claim their future. The world of men would have to go unpunished. They would never stand before the Dendä in judgement for their crimes, never again. Once they had, but that time was over. Perhaps all things have to change, and the world is forced to move on, dealing with whatever has changed when it comes to pass.  
It was only after a long time staring at the crumbled wall that Chalandra began to wonder about the rest of the city. If the wall was in ruins, and parts of it constantly collapsing, was the rest of the city not also falling to pieces? At any other time, she would warn Thane, but he would already know. Before, the sound of a crackling collapse was background noise, so she had paid little attention to it. Now, she knew what the sound was, so it was ever present. Thane would have known all along. He understood the world so much better than she, and she trusted he would be safe now.  
For a moment, she stood still and merely listened to the sounds of the city crumbling. Sometimes, it sounded like waves crashing on the shore, other times it sounded as though a woman cried out in agony. Then another crash came, this one the sound of a city's pleas and cries. Every sound was different, each more haunting that the last. Every time the sounds came, she felt as though it was real, although she knew it was only her imagination. How could a sound be so real, and yet false? The sound a child screaming filled the air, yet she knew it was only the city dying.  
But could the sounds not actually be real, the sounds as people died within? What if they were? What if the sounds were indeed people as they suffered inside the city? Yet she knew this was not the truth. If that were the reality, people would be trying to escape. The world of men had left none alive and slaughtered all those who were found. They were dead, all dead, despite the cries she may hear. Even if they were alive, Thane had commanded her to stay here, on the outside of the city. Although she longed to join him, he had been painfully clear with her; so firm she feared his wrath if she set foot into the ruins again. Never did he command her, or even try to make her obey, but now he was, and so she would honor his wishes.  
Then came the cry that haunted her above all others: "Chalandra! Chalandra no! Please no!"  
When she heard it, her entire body froze, unable to move out of fear and shock. Was he in danger? It could not be, his cry was out of fear, not a plea for aid. It was him, begging for something, but what she did not know. She should go to him, but he had told her not to enter, under any circumstances.  
"Thane? Can you hear me?" she cried back in reply, hearing nothing in return.  
Something had gotten into her head, something was messing with her mind, making her hear things that were false. Her heart still pounding, and her eyes filling with tears, she stood and watched the city. From the palace deep in the heart of the city, a column of smoke rose high. It slowly grew darker, until she could see the bright orange of flame dancing above the turrets. But the fire had gone out hours ago, had it not?  
Quickly, spreading rapidly through the city, the fire consumed the buildings. It burned without fuel, engulfing the entire city.  
"Thane!"  
Now, the entire city was once again in flames, the very outskirts where she stood blazing bright.  
"Please no," she whispered, stepping away from the blaze.  
There was nothing she could do, but surely Thane had gotten out. Head throbbing, dulling the reality of the situation, she stumbled to the forest, her mind blurred and dulled. The night fell completely, and she started a small fire on the outskirts of the forest. She had taken some of the dried meat out of her bag, along with her water bottle. Although she had the food out, she did not feel like eating it. She was too distracted by the thought of Thane to eat. He was supposed to return by nightfall, and yet he had still not been seen. The light of the fire illuminated the area around her well, but only for several feet. No additional light came from the city as all the fires had died off long ago. She was alone, so alone, without any company to ease her fear. Only the occasional sounds of the crackling fire, the collapse of another part of the city, and the snort of one of the horses broke the otherwise eerie silence.  
The more time passed, the more she found herself longing for his touch. She desired all the comfort and warmth that came with it, making her feel safe and loved. Perhaps he was merely lost in the city, or better yet, maybe he found some survivors. If he had, he would not leave them, especially if they were wounded and unable to move yet. She was confident he would return the following morning, or so she told herself. Her heart warned her of a worse fate, that he had either fallen victim to the collapsing city or to a man left behind in the city. Yet unwillingly, she fell asleep and was haunted by dark dreams.


	27. The Captive

One long, hard day of searching. Step after step, the smoke and ash burning inside his lungs. All that death around him. All his people slaughtered, and he was too late. There was no one left. They had held them inside and burned them to death. Those who left were taken captive to a more terrible fate, one of torture and suffering until their usefulness was gone. Or they were killed. Shot down where they stood as they tried to escape the consuming fire. Even in all his years of war, he had never seen such horrors. Such malice. They killed men, women, and children alike. They stood by as they watched them die. Children burned alive. They listened to the heartbreaking screams of the innocents as they suffered and slowly slipped into darkness, begging for mercy. Who can live with themselves after that? Who could ever wake up every morning after doing something so horrific?  
Finally, he gave up the search, as he could take no more. There was no one left. They were all dead. His people, those he had left the other ranks to save, dead. This sorrow like none other, nothing could match the pain. He needed the support of his fiancée. There was no other who could console him, and he knew she would be there for him in his darkest times. Upon leaving the palace grounds by the crumpled gate, he rounded the corner to the right and returned to where she had promised to wait.  
But when he returned, there was no one there. Bending down, he looked for signs that might lead him to her. Even in the dark, he could see the rock, on which he found several drops of blood, presumably hers, but no one could tell from the bloodbath. From behind him, he heard heavy footsteps. Immediately, he froze.  
"Turn 'round and surrender should you want 'er, and yerself to live," a voice commanded.  
Without looking, he knew it was Chalandra that was at knifepoint. Slowly, he raised his hands and stood, turning around and letting his eyes rest on his beautiful fiancée, her face illuminated by red flame that came from their torches. Her head hung low, and it appeared as though her eyes were shut, as though she was sleeping. They had hauled her up in this drunken state and pressed a knife against her throat. He knew what they had done before asking, yet he asked all the same.  
"What did you do to her?" he demanded, unafraid of the archer they had aiming at him.  
"Just shot her up with a little poison. Not much, just a bit of it on the tip of a dart. Couple of those and a few hours, and she was limp as a boned fish. We know it won't kill her, not likely anyways. We know enough about your people to know that. She be fine in a day or so, just made her a little tired," he answered in a raspy voice.  
"I surrender," he said firmly, walking towards them with his arms raised.  
"Good, good. You're the one we need, not 'er," he mocked, signaling to his men who came towards him.  
They grabbed his hands firmly and twisted them behind his back. Tightly, they bound his hands with rope.  
"Long as this one's under our control, there's no need to use anything stronger on you. I know she's your lady, and I know you won't leave her to suffering and death. If you try to escape, that's what she'll have, you understand?"  
"I understand," Thane replied, setting his jaw.  
Even in the face of his own death, and likely not a swift or gentle one, he felt the unrelenting sense of duty to her. When she came to her senses, she was likely going to protest. Her argument would be that she had been a captive so long, what was a few more days? That they need to save their people was greater. But were their people not already lost? Yet there is no hope in saving a people who are already dead. He knew that the battlefield would have their blood all over it, pooling with the life of the Dendä. Many of them were peaceful, and the warriors they did have were not fully equipped to fight. They were overrun, and while he had not told Chalandra that, Ravon too had seen it. That was why his loyal second told them to leave. To warn the others, though before they departed they both already knew what was happening. This was genocide. It was not war, nor spite. Pure and simple malice turned to genocide. The Dendä would live on through the two of them, and they might have been able to warn the others, but not now. But not now. So few left, just stragglers like them.  
"So then," the apparent commander began, interrupting Thane's thoughts, "Can we kill her now, as she will simply slow us down, or do you know an antidote?"  
"You try, and I will kill every person you love!" he snapped, fighting his bonds.  
"Oh now, we can't afford to lose ground on account of this thing," he mocked, giving her a nudge with his foot.  
"If you want any chance at information, which you clearly value quite highly, you will leave her alone," he snarled.  
"And who is going to bear the burden?"  
"I will. I have no intention of escaping, not in her state. Until she can walk, I will carry her," he answered.  
"Fine, but you try to escape, I will kill you both, clear?"  
"Unmistakably," Thane agreed.  
Reluctantly, he signaled to untie the captive. Immediately, Thane bent and carefully picked up the beautiful burden. Her body was light in her arms, and he was careful to cradle her head.

Throughout her unconsciousness, dreams of a haunted fate crept into her mind. Nearly every one of them ended in her own death. When she dreamed, her heart rate would rapidly increase, her breathing would quicken, and her body would break out in sweat. Although he knew Chalandra was strong, and would survive the poison, despite the extended sleep, he worried for her constantly. The only thing he had left was now helpless, relying solely on him to care for her. He had done a terrible job protecting his own people, so would he be able to protect his future wife? Every time doubtful thoughts would arise, Chalandra would grow restless, and begin to twist in her slumber, forcing him to put aside his concerns for her good.  
She was standing in the palace's highest turret, overlooking the shining city below. She wore a scarlet red dress, one covered in black lace over red silk. The sleeves were only lace, extending to her hands than looped around the middle finger, as many of her dress were. It had a long train that pooled around her feet. In the gentle breeze, her hair billowed and her dress danced. Around her neck, she wore an oblong black jewel on a black metal string. The world was so good, so peaceful. Without warning, the ranks of men breached the wall, and began their onslaught. They left none alive, making quick work of the city as they slit the throat of every man, woman, and child. Their cries reached her ears, filling the city with sounds of sorrow. Several men ransacked the palace, killing everyone within. The soldiers of the city were defenseless in the face of so many, and they could to doing nothing to defend the king.  
The men left, setting the city ablaze as they did. Although she heard the cries of those left alive, and the wails of those dying, felt the heat of the fire on her face, and smelled the burning of flesh, she felt no sympathy for the city. Her jaw was set, and her eyes watched with a sinister glare. Unmoved in the face of so much suffering she stood, untouched. Arrows flew all around her, but never did one so much as graze her. Then, she turned her back. Thane stood behind her, looking on with a look of pure sorrow.  
"Chalandra, please! No!" he cried, his eyes filled with tears.  
Without even giving him look of pity, she shook her head and walked past him.  
"I will not aid them, not now," she said coldly, her voice laced with hate.  
"Please, Chalandra, help them! They have done bad, but they can do good. This is your choice, and I cannot force you, but I beg you, as the one you love, give them aid."  
"No," she said again, sharply, and departed the turret.  
Behind her, she heard a great cry as Thane leapt from the turret, trying to find a way down so to help those below. He attempted to break his fall, using his knife to try to catch himself, but an archer shot him in the back. He slipped down and lay still at the bottom.  
Despite his death, she turned away and did nothing, not even shedding a single tear. Her face was hardened and her eyes were narrowed, obviously angry but with no indication of why she refused to aid those suffering. As she descended the tower, her red dress trailing behind her, the dream ended, sending her back into the abyss of the sleep that claimed her.

Then, she stood in front of a small, simple log house. The grass she stood on was a deep green, damp with morning dew. She wore a faded blue dress, in a fashion that those from the world of men would wear. It was the same clothing she had when she had first met Thane in the world of men. Around her breast, ending at the waist, she wore a leather vest, laced tightly in the front. The dress she wore was long sleeved, and all of it was simply the faded blue cotton. Her hair was in a tight side bun; a white flower tucked into her hair above her right ear. On her left middle finger, she wore her silver ring with the splendid blue flower embedded into the band, but she wore no other jewelry.  
In front of her, great lands of plenty stood, but for some reason she was weeping. As far as she could see, she saw the land. The grass gave way to fields of flowers, which soon led to a shallow river. To her right lay vast wheat fields; tall and ready to be harvested. To her left was a small, wooden stable. Behind her, she could hear the sounds of a happy family, all laughing and talking. The voices of several young children, several older and one man made up the chorus of voices. Chalandra turned towards the stable and noticed that the land only went a way out before it descended down a cliff. From below, the smoke of a dying fire rose into the sky, creating a grey haze. All the other sides were boxed in with the sides of mountains, much like her childhood home.  
Feeling beckoned, she turned to the house and walked towards it, her footsteps soundless as she glided across the ground. Reaching out a pale, slender hand, she opened the door. Stepping inside, she saw six children gathered around the house fire, with Thane sitting at the head. His arms were around two of the younger children, with the youngest child on his lap. On the bench opposite, sat a young woman with raven black hair and piercing sapphire eyes. She sat with her arm around a young boy of maybe six, with unruly blonde curls. Next to her was another young woman, only perhaps a few years younger. She had glossy auburn hair and eyes as blue as her sister.  
The child on his lap was a young girl with golden hair. She was a young babe of under a year, still unable to walk and speak. Although she was so little, it was obvious she would be a thing of beauty. Her eyes sparkled blue, fixated on Thane who held her. On Thane's right was a boy of eight with messy black hair. His eyes were green with a gentle, caring look. The other child was a young boy of four, with red hair of flame. He bore a sly smile on his face, as though he was up to some mischief, although his timid grey eyes said otherwise.  
Now, she stood in front of the fire, looking straight at Thane. He laughed and talked with the children, but his eyes betrayed his emotions. They were sad and full of want, as though he had lost something very dear to him. Every time he laughed, it was almost out of force, rather than honest joy. While he looked sorrowful and miserable, his eyes brightened whenever he looked to one of the children. Clearly, they were his then, as many bore his physical traits. But who was the mother?  
It then occurred to her that not one of the people had noticed her. She stood directly in front of Thane, yet he said nothing, nor even looked at her with a gentle gaze. Who was their mother? Slowly, she moved forward, noticing something around Thane's neck. Outside of his shirt hung a worn, brown strip of fabric from around his neck. On the makeshift necklace hung a ring, one of silver, with a small blue flower embedded into the band, like the one she wore, her engagement ring. On the ring finger of his left hand was another ring, one made of gold.  
Thane turned his head, looking at one of his sons. So, these were her children. They were married, and these were their children. But what of her? Was she dead, as Thane now wore her ring around his neck?  
Looking down, Chalandra saw a large stain of red slowly pool over her left breast. It ran down the dress, dripping to the floor. Somehow, she knew the wound was from her heart, but she felt no pain. Finally, Thane noticed her. He looked at her with a grim expression, tears filling his eyes.  
"I am sorry. I am so sorry. You know I had to, for them. I love you more than anything, I always will," was all he said before the dream ended and faded away.

The moment that dream ended, Chalandra woke with a start in reality. Thane had been pouring water into her mouth, which she now coughed up. As she breathed heavily, she moved up, bringing herself into a sitting position. Thane jumped forward, her having been on his lap.  
"You are awake!" he cried with excitement, taking her into his arms and pulling her for a tight embrace.  
For a long moment, her breath came in quick, short gasps, being panicked from the dream. Looking to the sky, she saw it was night.  
"How long have I been asleep?" she asked once she had settled some.  
"Three days."  
"Three days? That is an awfully long time."  
"Not for the poison they used, it is usually six days or more. Are you alright?"  
"Poison!" she exclaimed.  
"Hush, they are sleeping. You do not want to wake them."  
"Who is sleeping?" she asked, concerned.  
It was only then that she realized her hands were bound as she slowly came into her full senses.  
“Thane, what happened?"  
"Some of the men found us and used a poison to knock you out. We are now their captives, on the journey to their camp," he explained, "But hush now, there is no telling what they will do should they catch us talking.”  
Chalandra nodded and laid her head on his chest.  
"I am sorry," she murmured.  
Though she did not sleep, she allowed herself to rest on him. The dreams she had experienced haunted her, but she knew it was best if she did not bring them up. Thane could act strangely about such matters, and at that time, it was best not to say anything.  
And in the days that followed, the men dragged the two behind their horses. In the dust, trodden down from their once great lands, Chalandra and Thane were forced to follow. With cruelty and contempt they were treated. Nothing they had done wrong but tried to prevent the destruction of their people. No crime they had committed, none but being of a different kind then their captors.


	28. The Forgotten

The endless days slowly passed. The dark of night when all travel was impossible for humans was the only time they were given to rest. So long they had walked that blisters began to rub onto Chalandra feet. At night, she pulled off her boots, as to allow them a little relief. Yet in all this suffering, neither of them felt the pangs of hunger or the nagging of thirst. Exhaustion were all but unknown to them. From each other they drew strength, but loss was the greatest distraction. The loss that was confirmed, and the loss that they feared to be true. What if their great people had all fallen? What was then left for them? They would be alone. They would know they greatest, true meaning of the ideal. They would know the most bitter suffering, the greatest, most pure lament.  
It was all too soon when they realized their first destination. At the same time, they realized what their fate was soon to be. For much of the journey, they had been blindfolded, and led along behind the horses with ropes. There was nothing worth keeping secret from them, as it was their own lands that they wandered in. However, it was because of their cruelty that they delighted in their confusion and constant stumbling due to this loss of sight. When finally they were permitted to freely be allowed to walk without restraint of blindness, they deducted their destination. They were headed back to the valley.  
Yet there was no shame in the eyes of their captors as they led them closer and nearer to the pass. Instead they walked on, nearly proud of their accomplishment. They had raised up the greatest warriors and laid them to waste. They were all powerful now. They were supreme. No one was left to tell them no. No one remained to stand in their way of unjust laws and fruitless ways. They were proud. They had defeated the undefeatable and massacred their armies. Their lands were now theirs. Everything belonged to them. They would show this victory to all those left, show them their own greatness. This was not loss, the loss of the monarchs to bring forth the new rulers.  
For so long Chalandra shut her eyes against the horrors she knew to be approaching. For so long she had held her breath, praying that to that certain doom she was to be spared. Now, she needed to draw breath. She needed to see the world around her. Finally, she opened her mouth and drew in breath, panting. Finally, she opened her emerald eyes against the bright of the midday sun. There is was. There were all the horrors. It surrounded her. It penetrated her. The very breath of these destroyed beings, their very existence. It was all around her. It was about her. She could feel it in the air she breathed.  
The red water pooled around her shoes, seeping in to touch her feet. They were still a ways out from the canyon, but already the grass had turned to bloody marsh. The red liquid bubbled up around her shoes. Even her lightweight caused the thinned blood to rise from the depths, pooling around her feet. The smell. Nearly unbearable, the musky, iron smell of blood and death filled the air. It was on the wind, the smell of rotting bodies. It came from within her, the smell of pain, hurt, loss, betrayal, suffering, and in the end, death. Death was on the wind.  
Now she could see those who fell trying to escape. They were cut down midflight, or otherwise killed the moment they were caught. No captives, only kill. To her right, a warrior and his head hewn apart. To her left, a woman and child, killed by the crushing weight of a horse shot down as he ran. On and on, it went. Never ending, farther than the eye could see. The valley, the canyon, the dead. Closer still they drew, now having to step over fallen as they went. The still. The lifeless. The pleading. All fallen. All together. No care for their future, no hope for their dreams.  
Now she could see farther, into the beginning of the canyon. The bodies, piled. Some were burned, others were left to rot. The men had pillaged the bodies, looking for valuables. Still, the faces of the dead echoed their terrifying last breaths. The pain forever captured on their frozen expression. Flies buzzed more loudly than ever, thick clouds of them swarmed around and blacked out the sky. Yet she hardly heard them. Instead her attention was focused on the lifeless, trying to pay respect to the pain of their dying moments. Some men had been slowly killed, for sport. Many of their long hair had been cut off for the purpose of taunting them. But they were all dead. Nothing but flies and the small ants among them all moved in the valley of the dead.  
The moment the cold walls of the canyon touched her skin, she sank to her knees. The blood of the marsh bubbled around her, all the blood yet to be absorbed by the earth. Rejected by the earth. It would not take this sacrifice. The spilled blood would never appease the wrath of nature. Tears welled up in her eyes, then slowly, at first, ran down her dusty cheeks. Thinking nothing of the blood, she let her hands fall to the earth next to her. Almost immediately, one of the men hauled her up, though she was sobbing as she bowed her head to the earth.  
"Keep moving!" he barked.  
Unable to find the strength to fight back, she stood, though her head was bowed with grief. Though her hands were bound in front of her, she raised them to her face and buried her face in her hands. When she finally let her hands drop, her face was splattered with blood.  
Deeper and deeper they entered the canyon. The smell of the dead and rotting was overwhelming, decaying flesh was all round them. Vultures and birds of various kinds had gathered around the bodies and began to eat the flesh of Chalandra's dead kinsmen. They first flocked around the easy eats, those who had been brutally torched prior to death. Their blood-stained beaks tore apart flesh and gulped down the meat. The deeper they went into the canyon, the more Chalandra saw of the horrors. Some of them men had literally been torn apart prior to death. Others had their stomach cut open, their entrails now lying about them on the ground. The beasts flocked about these unfortunate, as they could have an even easier meal.  
It was not only the Dendä that had suffered though, but also their mounts. The horses had been shot down or otherwise wounded and left for dead. It was obvious they did not realize the great value of these creatures, as they had chosen to slaughter them too rather than use them for other purposes. Many of the horses had their throats cut, and their tongues were handing out, dried blood on the remaining flesh. Others were shot down, their once-beautiful gleaming hides filled with arrows and crusty blood. Some had broken their legs in confusion, and other had fallen where they stood with their masters still atop their backs. Their great steeds had been faithful to the end. No terror among them, no running away from the horrors of war. Just bravery. Just loyalty.  
Children though had not been spared from the terrors of the onslaught. Clearly their parents had tried to protect them from death, but to no avail. They were cut down just as all the others were. No sympathy for the young, no care for the innocent. If any mother and child were taken as captives, Chalandra knew their fate would not be much better. They would become slaves, used and misused for all eternity. No escape they would have, they would be passed from father to son. Their beauty would be misused, taken for granted and they would experience an eternity of horrors.  
Even as they made this heartbreaking walk, intended to herald the new reign of man's great supremacy over them, the men prodded them to move faster. They did not care the great hardship the two faced, they did not know. For it is in cruelty that wrongdoings can be covered, as they care not for the suffering of others but for their own wretched victory. Thane stood close by her side, even more pained then his fiancée. However, he tried as best he could to support her, and to help her to be at peace. For it was through her peace that he would find his own. Until her heart was settled, and her soul accepted the horrors, his own could never be right again.

Every day was more terrible than the last. Every step was more painstaking then the previous. They did not care. They urged to move faster. With every breath, she lamented the dead. With every heartbeat she tried to feel their pain. She too should be dead. She too should have been defiled like the innocent women around her before she was brutally killed. She should have been one of them, yet she was not. She was spared from that fate because of Ravon. He knew what their fate here was only in death, that was why he had sent them away.  
They had been in the canyon three days now. Three days of hell, three days of lamenting the dead. Every night, when she was finally left to herself with Thane, she tried to connect with the souls of those around her. They lay still yet tried to pull her down to their same fate. Their faces looked into her very soul, even as she tried to lament them. The stars were her only consolation. It showed the end of day and was the bringer of night yet still brought hope in the darkest times. Through the lives of the dead, she could restore herself to peace, channel great strength through their spirits, and gain knowledge greater than any other. It was not that she wished to be greater then they, it was that she wished to avenge them. Perhaps, if they saw her cause as just, they would grant her greatness to bring men to their knees.  
Every night, rather than sleeping, she would stare into the hollow, lifeless eyes of those around her and connect with their spirit. She would feel their loyalty, their dedication to the end, their life, their loves, their passions, then their pain, she could feel every breath they had breathed, every beat of their heart. From their death, she could feel strength flowing through her. It was in lamenting, closing her eyes yet reaching out to those around her, that she slowly began to find peace. It was not a mild, gentle peace, but a violent, passionate one. It flowed through her veins like a fire, fueling her own beating heart. It was a raging, pulsating peace. A peace that made her angry rather than satisfied. It drove her on. It drove her to desire vengeance, yet stayed her hand, as it was not yet the time.  
Thane noticed a change in Chalandra. She had spent a great deal of time simply looking up to the night sky with her eyes shut, obviously trying to connect with the dead in the traditional manner of their people. Food, water, and sleep she refused, but instead working towards gaining strength from the spirits of the dead. So few she had known, yet he knew that she wanted to better know their sorrow. It was a sorrow all too familiar to her yet so distant that she needed its fire.  
Every day, for four days of sorrow, she lamented the passing of the Dendä. It was not out of superstition or some ancient belief that she did so, but out of respect for the dead. After all she had seen, she did not believe that she would be granted greater power from the souls of the dead. No, it was out of remembrance for their brethren.  
Though she did not believe, she began to feel more at peace. And on top of that peace came a new strength. By the time they left the canyon on mid-day of the fourth day, she was infinitely stronger than when she had walked in so long ago. She was changed. She was different now, though she did not know how yet. There was something in her manner of thinking that had changed, as though something within her had finally clicked. She finally began to see more, more than what she could previously. Slowly, as though the final piece of the puzzle had been pushed into place, she started to understand. Now she knew that she had been given warnings when they walked into the canyon. And her dreams, were they too warnings or were they fiction, the lies and fantasy of a poison? She started to think as though she knew, but none of this Chalandra shared with her dearest love for fear he would think her insane.

Then, after passing out of the barren canyon littered with the bodies of the fallen, they entered the camp of men. Enormous, unending, littered with thousands and thousands of bodies of the living. The stench of men overwhelming, the smell of food revolting. Tent after tent after tent, filled with the loud clamber of weapons and the drone of talking. The sound of glasses being smashed together in victory and the random bursts of drunks laughing though it were barely three o'clock in the afternoon. But underneath the sounds of celebration she could hear the horrors, see the horrors. Instead of laughter, she heard their screams. Instead of glasses, she heard weapons clanging together. Instead of the smell of food, though rotting, she smelled their burning flesh.  
And onward they were led. Through the winding tents to the very center and beyond. There seemed no end to the number of men, and no beginning. Obviously, their captors had a purpose for then, and she could only believe it was information. They knew more, the two of them had seen more. Then, they were brought before a large canvas tent that seemed cleaner and nicer than the others. Then, they were allowed to rest.


	29. For the Sake of a Hated Woman

It was past sunset when they finally were allowed to rest. They were completely exhausted from the day's endless journey and immediately sunk to the ground. Weary, and wanting nothing more than to sleep after seeing so many horrors. Instead of being given some form of water and food, they were greeted by a snarling commander. Within moments of their arrival, he found this way to them.  
"Huckinson, get the man up. He's the one we need," he ordered, his voice bearing an accent of English descent.  
They had been allowed to sit down, under close supervision of Hue and his men. Now, a gangly brown-haired man stepped forward and grabbed Thane under the arm, roughly pulling him up.  
"Thane?" Chalandra murmured, concerned but still weak from her ordeal.  
The man pushed Thane before his commander.  
"What is your name then?"  
"Thane."  
"Is that answered honestly?"  
"You will simply have to find out."  
"Are you a position of authority in the Dendä kingdoms?" the man continued.  
Instead of making a smart remark, Thane remained silent.  
"Oh, I see. We have a noble silent one. Those are fun, aren't they," he mocked, getting a small chuckle from his nearby troops, "Hue, Huckinson, hold him up. Marold, fetch your whip."  
The first two men unbound him while a stocky, tall man scurried off to a tent, returning with a long, coiled whip.  
"Five lashes, then we will see how noble he's feeling."  
The man sneered, obviously pleased. The two other men took Thane by either arm, forcing them in and holding him in place. One ripped his leather vest from his back, and the other pulled his shirt over his head. Chalandra watched in horror, trying to stand by his side. When she moved to reach him, a guard grabbed her and held her arms behind her back.  
His fate did not even phase him. He merely set his jaw and waited for the blows to begin. He would gladly take the pain and the suffering. A thrashing would hardly hurt him, knowing that his Chalandra could instead be the one in pain. What if they thought of that though? What if they realized that was what would make him talk? For as long as he could, he would hold them off. This pain was a precious, welcome gift.  
Chalandra watched in horror as the man raised his whip high. She knew that Thane would never give up information if he were the one being beaten. Hopefully, he would not give up vital information for her sake either, though she knew it was folly to cling to such an empty hope.  
"Please no! Let him go!" she cried out, begging for him to be spared.  
Instead of heading her pleas, the whip fell with a loud crack across Thane's back. He groaned slightly but made no other sign of pain. The lash left a long, bleeding strip across his upper back, from his shoulder to his right side. Chalandra barely felt the tears streaming down her face as she wept. The second lash fell, harder than the first. This time, Thane winced under the whip. The third strike fell, Thane groaned, clenched his fist and jaw, and let his head fall down. With every lash, the beating grew more unbearable. Yet he would remain silent. Nothing could force him to talk.  
The final lash came as the strongest, most brutal of them all. It caused him to stumble forward, bearing against the men that held him. The commander grinned, pleased with the beating.  
"Alright, enough for now," he said, looking at the drops of blood on the dirt below him, the blood-soaked whip, and the crimson that streamed down Thane's back, "Bring him over here.”  
As he requested, Huckinson grabbed Thane by the upper arm and dragged him over to his commander.  
"Now, do you feel like answering the previous question?" he asked slyly.  
"Beat me until I die. You will get no information from me,” he answered.  
"That can be arranged," he said plainly.  
As he spoke, Hue refastened his bindings.  
"Or, wait,” the man paused and turned to Chalandra, “What about your little lady friend over here?"  
Glancing toward Chalandra, he motioned for them to bring her over. Hue grabbed her by the upper left arm and pushed her ahead of him and before his commander. The man grabbed her chin and looked her over.  
"Is he your commander? Or something more?" he questioned.  
Chalandra touched Thane's hand now that they were close. He responded by wrapping his fingers around her hand as best he could.  
"Yes, I think that will do nicely,” he recounted, noticing his affection toward her, "Beat her until he gives us information, or until she is dead, whichever comes first."  
Hue quickly pulled them apart. Thane struggled against his bonds, crying out again and again.  
“Leave her alone! Do you hear me!" he screamed.  
"Thane, seventeen hundred years and a hundred thousand lashes, this is nothing. Tell them nothing which might endanger the precious few of us that are left," she pleaded, reminding him of her past.  
She did not fear the whip, nor did she fear death. For the sake of the kingdoms, she would die. It was without fear and without resentment that she would die. No longer did she hate. No longer did she spite. Yet she knew Thane would try to save her from any harm. It was her only wish that he remain silent, though she knew her dreams for the safety of the kingdoms, or at least any surviving Dendä, would be shattered with seconds.  
Hue dragged her to the same place Thane had been beaten and untied her bindings. She went willingly, without any fear and without any contempt. Her only desire was to protect the kingdoms, or what was left of them. She did not seek to escape her fate, nor did she expect to. If left to her, she would suffer the beating. So many times, she had been whipped before. When she told him it was nothing, she honestly meant it.  
Now Hue stood beside her, Huckinson holding her other arm firmly. Her eyes were fixed forward, showing not even a flicker of fear, only courage and willingness.  
"Eh, Captain,'" Hue called out, looking over Chalandra, "Do we get to take 'er shirt off too?"  
"You have gone too far even touching her!" Thane screamed from the background, yelling threats to them as he violently fought his guards.  
Holding her head up, Chalandra kept her dignity about her, even if these men would not. Although it would be shameful, she resolved not to feel any shame. However, to her surprise, the commander shook his head.  
"No, leave her as she is. That would evidently distract you too far from your duty," he answered firmly, with a great deal of self-respect.  
Something had changed his mind, something powerful had made him answer. Under usual circumstances he would have stripped her bare, but something nagged at his mind and prevented him from doing so.  
Hue scowled, making his displeasure painfully obvious. The commander walked over to Thane.  
"Last chance. Tell me what I previously asked, which is, if you need reminded, if you are nobility. If you don't answer me, I will beat her," he hissed, getting in Thane's face briefly before circling around to his back.  
Reaching out a gloved hand, he pressed his fingers deep into his stripes.  
"And she will end up like you."  
Thane groaned in pain and would have fallen to his knees if not for the man holding him up.  
"Am I clear?" he asked, not looking for an answer.  
Panting, Thane nodded.  
"Go on then,” he said, signaling the guard to begin beating Chalandra.  
The man raised his hand, preparing to strike. That was all it took.  
"Yes! Yes, I am nobility!" he exclaimed.  
The commander raised white glove, stained from the blood of his captive.  
"No more Thane, no more! Do not fear for me!" Chalandra pleaded, yet all the while knowing that her words fell on deaf ears.  
"Are you their captain as well? Their highest commander?" he continued.  
"Yes," he replied, lowering his head in shame of his actions.  
"Can we trust that you will cooperate from here on out?"  
"Yes."  
"Bring the girl over."  
Huckinson let her right arm go, and Hue led her over to the two men, fastening her bounds as they went.  
"There you are then. Your beloved woman. Is she your wife?"  
"No."  
"Your intended?"  
"Indeed."  
Looking into the emerald green eyes of his love, he found his strength renewed and his will to go on rekindled.  
"Thane, please no," she begged, looking directly in his eyes in hopes of putting an end to his speech.  
"You care deeply for her then?" the commander asked.  
"Naturally," he replied, completely calm.  
"What is it you love about her?"  
"Everything. She is beautiful, but so much more. She is patient, kind, loving, forgiving to all even though she has been deeply hurt. Although she knows the consequences, she is brave and courageous to a fault. Her loyalty is unmatched, and her dedication is true. She is honest, and so gentle. No one is hated by her, and her mind is like no other. But why is that of consequence to you?"  
"Sounds like she is a good woman, especially for you," he replied, "And I simply want to know more about you. Was she a noble too?"  
"No."  
"What was her previous status, before you took her in?"  
"A slave," he answered.  
"A slave? But is slavery not illegal in your lands?"  
"It is. She was taken from her home at a young age and forced into slavery for nearly seventeen hundred years. Her master kept her away from anywhere that she might be set free and chained her in the dark parts of the kingdom, so that no one ever found her, not until she escaped."  
"Would you agree to continue cooperating if I were to hand her to you?" the commander inquired.  
Something was eating away at his mind, something powerful. He was never this kind to captives, especially those of a rebellion so long deserved against the Dendä. He had led the ranks of men and cut down the Dendä as they stood, why now did he stay his hand?  
"Yes," Thane replied quickly, eager to take her into his arms.  
As agreed, Chalandra was passed from Hue's rough grip to him. Even with his restricting binding, he was able to pull her against himself.  
"Are you alright?" he breathed, pulling her as close as possible.  
"I am fine. But Thane, I beg you not to answer their questions and betray your people," she requested again.  
"Hush now, all will be well," he answered, kissing the top of her head, "There is nothing left to betray."  
"If I uncuff you two, would you attempt to escape?" the commander asked.  
"That is very bold of you," Chalandra replied, her voice condescending as she struggled against her bonds.  
"I put faith in the thousands of guards that are watching over this camp. Besides, I and several other guards, heavily armed, will not leave your side. Furthermore, I do not believe that your fiancé would put your life in danger, not if he is willing to betray what is left of his people simply so that you do not have to suffer the same thing he already did."  
"You put too much faith in your guards and consider me far less adept than I am," she spat.  
"Chalandra, be silent," Thane commanded.  
She knew better than to ignore him when he took such a tone, so she fell silent, though she set her jaw. Under normal circumstances, she would not have obeyed, for she viewed herself as his equal, as she knew he did too. However, he was right this time.  
"We would do nothing, if you were to grant us that liberty," Thane confirmed, intending to keep his promise as he was a man of his word.  
"Very well then," the commander said, "Hue."  
Scowling, Hue took the keys from his belt and uncuffed them, Thane first, then Chalandra. Immediately, Thane pulled Chalandra in, without the restrictions of the cuffs.  
"Everything will be alright," he assured her, wrapping his arms around her, placing his hand on the side of her head and pressing it against his chest.  
Although she was angry with him, her heart softened some and she put her arms on his chest, knowing his back was bleeding and agonizingly sore. Under her breath, Chalandra muttered, knowing he meant well for her, but hating he would so easily give up the secrets of his fallen people. Finally, after closing her eyes, she allowed her anger to settle. Thane looked to the commander, his eyes showing his honest gratitude.  
"Thank you," he said wholeheartedly, the man never doubting his sincerity for a moment.  
Then, he released Chalandra from his tight grasp and moved to hold her hand instead. His back throbbed with pain, but he gave no sign of his misery.  
"It is in our best interest for you to be treated well. We need information, not your death and demise," he answered, "Would you prefer to sit given your current state?"  
"Yes," Chalandra said, answering for him, "And if you would not mind, a basin of water, a small cloth, and a large bandage cloth."  
Thane shook his head, knowing those things were for him.  
“There is no need, I am perfectly able to stand."  
"Come with me," the commander invited, leading them into a large canvas tent.  
Inside were a several wooden chairs on either side of a desk.  
"Please, sit. Huckinson will bring the supplies requested."  
As instructed, Thane pulled a chair out for Chalandra before sitting down himself. They were simple, without arms and short backs. Thane leaned forward off of his chair so not to allow his back to touch it. Any movement was agonizing, and he knew touch would be as well. He took Chalandra's hand again, weaving his fingers in between hers. The mere touch of her hand brought relief in this time of pain and hardship. This was undoubtedly the hardest day of his life, full of life-changing decisions. Without the woman he loved by his side to comfort him and bring him strength, he would have made the wrong ones, but with her he was confident he would make the correct ones. Even if he made the wrong choices, he would have one thing to trust. No matter what happened, what wrongs he committed, and what bad he created, he knew she would stand by him, for good or evil.


	30. An Echo

For several minutes, the commander asked questions about Chalandra and his past, simply trying to get an idea of their background. While Chalandra refused to answer, Thane responded with honesty to every question he asked. Light poured into the tent as Huckinson lifted the flap, carrying the requested supplies.  
"Here you are," he said.  
Unlike Hue, he was a civilized soldier. Dressed in the colors of his army instead of the rags of wildman and obeyed his commanders without protest. He was young, clean-shaven, and handsome, rather than the middle-aged, scruffy man Hue was.  
"Thank you," Chalandra said, coldly, but at least making an attempt to be polite.  
It may have been out of habit, but it was polite. The small gesture was appreciated by Huckinson, who worked in a thankless job. Even a somewhat rude 'thank you' did not go amiss and gained some manner of respect in his mind.  
"You're welcome, ma'am," he answered before ducking out of tent again.  
Chalandra picked up the supplies, looking them over with care. As requested, a tin bowl of water was brought, along with a small, worn cloth and a good amount of white bandage. Dipping the cloth in the water, she lifted it out with care and wrung it, making it only damp.  
"Thane," she murmured softly, though she said it as a command.  
"I am busy."  
"It's fine," the commander said, permitting him to allow to cleanse his wounds, "We can work at the same time."  
Reluctantly, Thane turned his back to Chalandra. He set his jaw, knowing it was going to sting. This was a fate Chalandra had suffered many times before, now it was his turn to carry the burden. Besides, it was she who was tending to his wounds. Who better than the woman who had tended to her own so many times before? She would be as gentle as possible. Although she would do her best, he would still have to bear some manner of pain.  
The stinging, shooting pain shot through his body, interrupting his thoughts. Chalandra had gently pressed the cloth to the highest whiplash so to clean off the blood. It was a pain almost as agonizing as the action of being whipped. He groaned and grimaced in pain.  
"I am sorry," Chalandra apologized from behind, her gentle voice bringing relief.  
"No, no, it is alright," he mustered, his voice strained and insincere as he grabbed onto the bottom of the chair with all his strength.  
He meant it, but it did not lessen the bite of the water against his broken body. Though she felt pity for his pain, and for being the cause of his pain, she continued to work without hesitation. She knew how such actions burned, seeming to bring more harm than good. So many times before, she had treated such injury, but never on another. Before she had always had to bring that torment upon herself, but this was far, far worse. She knew this was what was best for him, but it was a difficult thing to do, to bring the same pain so familiar to her to another.  
Even as he groaned with pain, trying to muffle the sounds of his agony with little success, the commander continued to drill him with questions: "Who was your father?"  
"Alya, the King of the Water Realm."  
"Where is he?"  
He paused, the answer being difficult to say: "Dead."  
"When?"  
"In the battle."  
"How?"  
"Betrayed by one of your men. He agreed to arrange a meeting between your commander and my father, which he did. They killed him then," he sighed, looking down to the floor as he spoke.  
"Who is your mother?"  
"Avelette, Queen of the Water Realm."  
"Where is she?"  
"Deceased."  
"When?"  
"A long time ago."  
"How?" he continued to press.  
"She died in childbirth."  
"With you?"  
"My sister."  
"Then, who is your sister?" the commander asked.  
"Avva, Princess of the Water Realm."  
"Where is she?"  
"Dead."  
"In the battle?"  
"In one, a long time ago."  
"You are completely alone, aren't you?"  
"No."  
"Do you have any other family members?" he inquired.  
"None."  
"Then you are alone."  
"Save Chalandra, but she heals any wound my heart may suffer. Without her, then I have nothing."  
With his words, he turned around, even though she was working hard on trying to help him. He gently touched her chin with his fingers, placing his thumb under it. After the small gesture, he turned back around, looking again to the commander.  
"And you," he began, looking to Chalandra who was working steadily at Thane's back, "You're turn. Who is your father?"  
"I will answer no questions."  
"You will be whipped."  
"You think that stops me? I have no information about the safety of my people that I would give up to save myself from pain."  
"What about to save your fiancé from pain?"  
"If you want information, speak to Thane, not me. He knows everything about my past and has more information about the Dendä."  
"Thane, then, what is her father's name?"  
"Tyrriel."  
"Where is he?"  
"Both her mother and father were killed when she was very young."  
"Mother's name?"  
"Kietra."  
"Why were they killed?"  
"They were Dendä ambassadors to the town of Berel. Instead of leaving as the citizens demanded, they stayed and were killed. She alone was taken to be a slave," he explained.  
For a moment the man was silent, carefully constructing his next question.  
"I apologize for your mistreatment. However, I am curious, how was she freed? Did you meet her when she was a slave and free her or did she free herself?"  
Chalandra froze, feeling the burning regret rage inside her. She lowered her hand in the middle of working on Thane's back and dipped her already clean cloth back in the murky water. For a moment she looked to the floor, waiting for Thane to admit to her shameful past. He too had paused, waiting for her consent before he spoke. When he said nothing, the commander grew inpatient.  
"Regrettably, I am a murderer," she finally admitted, her voice betraying her sincerity and revealing her shame.  
"You killed your master?" the commander inquired, obviously surprised that the seemingly gentle woman before him was capable of such an act.  
"She had every right," Thane protested, coming to her aid.  
"Nothing justifies murder Thane," she shot back, her voice firm and harsh, "It was wrong."  
"It may have been wrong, but he would have killed you," he answered gently, "If you had not taken his life, he would have stolen you from me. Our entire future would have been torn down, and I would have nothing. Sometimes, wrongs are committed that are right in the end."  
"I had no right."  
"You seem a woman of integrity and honor. More than I expected of you. I would never have guessed you were capable of such a thing," the commander said, astonished.  
"One thing you learn is never to underestimate her," Thane returned.  
Now more relaxed as she had admitted to her crimes, she wrung out the cloth and started to clean his back again. The crusted blood was almost gone now, and she was nearly ready to bandage his wound.  
"Why did you kill him? I heard you were a slave for eighteen hundred years, so why then?"  
"He brought home a younger woman. Prettier and as naive as I was at the time. To save her from my fate, I took his life. Though I cannot see what this has to do with anything you are attempting to discover."  
"Thane, where did you meet her?" he questioned, realizing she was right.  
"The town where I spent ten years after serving in the army for a good while. She showed up one day and I took her in."  
"I see. Now, all this has been very interesting, and very helpful. I hate to move on, but I rather need some other information."  
"I assumed it would come to that," Thane shot back, knowing that a good deal of that information would require him to betray his people.  
Chalandra finished cleaning his back, leaving only five long, scabbing stripes, slowly oozing a mix of blood and puss.  
“Thane," she said, getting his attention after she set aside the bowl of water and grabbed the gauze, "Hold this in the middle of your chest. It will not cover all of the highest lashes, but it will cover them as best possible."  
Doing as he was instructed, he placed the white cloth against his skin, pressing it tight.  
"Do you still understand your current situation?" the commander asked, making sure Thane knew the consequences if he did not speak.  
"All too well."  
"Very good, then let us begin," The commander moved his chair from behind the desk to in front of Thane's eyeline, "What was the purpose of your leaving the palaces?"  
"We were trying to go to safety. Living in the palaces was no longer safe for us, as you know. We were trying to get to the villages of men and disperse throughout the land, making our homes in peace amongst your people. We had sent out messengers not a week prior and were told that in that surrender, we would be permitted peace."  
"I never recall sending out any kind of message for that kind of bargain. But it was an evacuation?"  
"Yes."  
"Were the kingdoms completely emptied?"  
"Regrettably, though it is my duty to protect my people, there is nothing left to protect for even the half we left behind was slaughtered," he answered harshly.  
“I have no doubt the survivors are few and far between, but I should like to know where you were headed.”  
“He wishes only to know that he might track down the remaining member of our people and take them as slaves,” Chalandra interrupted, “You cannot betray that which is left.”  
“Be quiet, Chalandra, I will do what I will, for there is little remaining which I might betray.”  
Angry, she wrapped his back quickly, pulling it very tight with every pass. His betrayal was wrong, so wrong. Great rage flamed within her, a fire rekindled to protect her people. It did not matter how she suffered, nor did it matter if they had treated her badly in the past. She forgave them for every wrong they had committed against her, everything that had ever gone undone for her sake. Now it was her change to act, to make the right choice, though the Dendä had chosen to turn away while she suffered.  
Loudly and before he could answer, she pushed back her chair, making it scrape against the dirt and stone of the tent floor. As fast as possible, she dashed to the tent entrance where the two guards stood. Before the commander was able to act and call out orders, and before the guards could respond, she grabbed a knife from one of their belts, having noticed that they all carried the same equipment. They immediately turned back and drew their weapons, preparing to take her down.  
"No, no! Do not harm her! I need her alive!" the commander cried, panicked, for he understood she was the only leverage he had.  
One man moved to remove the weapon, but Chalandra quickly replied with a sharp swipe across his stomach, leaving a deep cut. The wound sent him staggering backwards, moaning in pain. Lifting the weapon to her breast, she made her position clear.  
"Thane, you keep your silence, or I will do it," she threatened.  
"What are you doing!" he exclaimed, terrified.  
"The only thing I can. Whether I live or die, it does not matter, not now. If you do not stay silent, and do not betray your people, I will do it. I am the only thing to stop you from a decision you will later regret."  
"You matter. You matter more than you will ever know and ever could know. If you die, I too shall die."  
"No. Let me be brave. I need to do this. I owe this to the last living members of your people," she argued.  
Turning to the commander, her eyes flashing, she locked his gaze.  
"You need me alive, you know you do. Without me, there is nothing, not anything in this world that will make him talk. Either you stop asking him questions, or he falls silent forever. I swear to you, on my honor, you cannot ever make him talk if you do not have me. Also, commander, you call for additional help, I will end my life. Keep silent," she warned.  
"What is it you want?" he asked, trying to distract her.  
From behind, she heard the crunch of the second guard's foot as he moved closer to her. With lightning speed and precision, she whipped around and stabbed him above the heart. He cried out and froze, thinking himself to be dying. After she pulled the knife out, she turned back around, knowing that Thane would make a move on her. The entire action took mere seconds, but it was a touch too slow. Just as she turned, Thane leapt upon her and wrenched the knife from her hands, throwing it into the dirt out of her reach. She cried out and tried to resist him, but she was not powerful enough to escape him.  
Defeated and ashamed, she lay still under him. He had rolled her onto her stomach, and grabbed both of her hands, pulling them onto her back and holding them there. He crouched over her, kneeling.  
"How could you do that to me!" he cried, his voice trembling as he spoke. "I need you! I was trying to spare you!"  
"I am already lost, it was you who needed saved," she answered, her voice soft against the ground.  
Finally, he pulled her up, rather roughly and keeping her hands firmly in his grasp.  
"Some rope, if you will," he requested.  
Nodding the commander reached behind the desk and handed him some rope. Tightly, he bound her wrists together and then to the chair. She sat with her head bowed, knowing she had tried to do right.  
"Although we are on opposing sides, I am left with no choice but to admire your bravery," the commander said after a long while, breaking the silence, "Had I been in your position, I would have been neither clever nor courageous enough to do the same."  
"I neither want nor need your admiration, nor your praise," she replied, her tone flat and lifeless.  
She caught his gaze again with her flaming eyes, full of mystery. For a moment, he held her gaze, but then looked away. There was something about her, something he had never felt before. It was not a desire, nor an attraction, as he would have expected to feel with a woman so beautiful, it was something else entirely. It was a fear. Pure, unadulterated fear. It was the fear of the unknown and a fear of the mystery. Her mystery. He had never been afraid, not of a woman. Never before in all his long years. This was different, so different and powerful that it nearly crippled him.  
In her eyes, he saw everything. Instead of his reflection, his own form looking back at him. Rather than seeing her being, opening up just a little to let him in and see what her mind was like, he saw something else. Her eyes held an anger, and a rage. They had wrath and ruin and destruction, but they also held peace. They held love and forgiveness and compassion and kindness and gentleness and humility. He saw joy, happiness, and contentment intertwined with sorrow, despair, and misery. In her he saw the balance of love with hate, joy with anguish, and unity with solitude. And yet that was merely the beginning.  
Instead of seeing himself, looking back at him from within her inky darkness, he saw a universe within. Held inside the beautiful emerald galaxy that held all time itself he saw the universe in her two black pools. Inside the universe he saw everything. He saw all her pain and the sorrows that she carried, but also the love and forgiveness. But it went further than just the keeper of the universe within. It extended to him.  
In her eyes he saw his past, his present, and his future. He saw his life play before him, birth to death. He watched as all he was passed over in her eyes, as though a book came to life in her. So much, so much. In her he saw the future of not only himself, but also the keeper of the universe. In only seconds, he watched her life play before him. The agony, the joy. Everything. He saw her beginning and her end. But he saw more that would haunt him for the rest of his days. He saw her future, a future that would be stolen, and a future that was wrong. And although he did not show his confusion, he felt a deep yearning to apologize for all that she would suffer. He longed to ask if Thane too had seen such wonders, but he knew he had not. For if he had, he would not look at her the same. He looked at her with love, one that was pure and did not know of the path lying ahead.  
"Excuse me for a moment," the commander said, standing up, "I assume I can trust you to keep an eye on her and to stay here yourself."  
"I have no intention of leaving, especially not in light of the most recent events. I am angrier than you could understand," Thane answered, looking at Chalandra with disappointment.  
The man nodded before leaving the tent. Thane stared at Chalandra for a short while before looking away and sighing.  
"Why are you so angry?" she asked, her voice rather cold as she spoke to him.  
"I would hope that does not need to be explained," he answered harshly, using an abrupt tone that he never used with anyone unless he was truly angry.  
"Had I been about to do something I would forever regret, would you not have done the same?" she shot back, her head held high in spite of his resentment.  
"Not like that. I would never do that to you. Besides, it is not a woman's place to decide what needs to happen in the affairs of men."  
"I see how it is. This is the real you is it not? Under pressure, this is what you become. I thought you were different, but I was wrong. You still see me as a possession, something that you own. If you honestly think that I have ever been that kind of woman, then you know nothing about me. The mere fact that you could ever say something so cruel and thoughtless breaks me apart. I was trying to help you, and it worked. Now, instead of thanking me, you are telling me about how to be a proper woman, and where my place is. After seventeen hundred years a slave, I know well where my place in this world is, and it is certainly not as a homemaker or a gentle, submissive woman. Not anymore," she snapped, her voice laced with hate.  
Harsh as they may have been, her words were true and deserved. No matter how angry he was with her, he had spoken unjustly and with anger. Being the fair man that he was, he found himself able to recount his actions and apologize rather than make the situation worse through a futile attempt to argue his point. He had never thought of her in such a manner, and he never would. She was not some placid or meek child, doing whatever she was told. She calculated things in an instant that would take others days to figure out. She made a stand for what was right, no matter the cost to herself. That was why he loved her so. She was different, unafraid and perfect. She knew where her place was, and to his relief it was by his side. She understood the world and knew about everything that surrounds her. Why, how, and when they act. Everything. There is so much to her, and the years that she suffered formed the beautiful, deadly creature before him now. This was Chalandra, the woman he loved dearly. Now, he was brought to his knees once again.  
"I am sorry," was all he could muster, "I was wrong."  
His eyes looked downward, ashamed that he would even have such thoughts in his head. He had never thought of women like that, as possessions, or lesser than their male counterparts, but least of all, her.  
"I was so wrong," he apologized again, "What you did was brave and incredibly smart. The idea that you were able to predict his actions like that, so quickly, was incredible. I even would not have thought of something in such short time. However, you must understand why it is that I was angry. I was afraid for you."  
"It is alright, I forgive you. How could I not? You are sitting here, trying to keep me safe, as you always do. While it may have been wrong of me to do something, and betray your love, I stand by my actions. I believe it was right and I live believing that you would have done the same."  
"Had I thought of something as brilliant as that, I would have. But you did, and I praise you for it."

As they sat together, forgiving each other after their brief argument, the commander spoke with his captain, panicked with what he had seen.  
"I'm telling you, it's not safe to keep these two," he said frantically.  
"What? What could happen?" the man asked.  
"I don't know, but I think this is out of our hands. We should send them along with Hue to the General. I don't want any part of this."  
"Of what?"  
"Of her."  
"Are you afraid of a woman? You must be joking," he scoffed.  
"I know it sounds bad but look. My hands are shaking," he argued, holding up his trembling hand as testament, "And you know I don't scare easily. I don't trust her, not even a little. She's evil. Her eyes, there was something wrong, so wrong. It was everything at once, the entire universe within her eyes. I don't understand it. If that weren't bad enough, I have never, not in my life, seen a woman or man act so bravely. She would have killed herself, I am so sure, to secure safety to a people, who, to what I understand, hate her and enslaved her for her entire life. The fact that she even thought of it proves she is brilliant. I don't want to keep them. I think we should send them on their way to the General."  
"You're in charge, Brogert. It's up to you."  
“Yes, I will send them with Hue, but make sure he doesn’t hurt that woman. The man is obviously worthless without her, and if we make them angry, it could have dire consequences. There’s something different about her.”  
The commander nodded then excused himself, his heart still pounding from the experience. After taking several deep breaths to calm himself, he re-entered the tent, doing his best to mask his shaking hands.  
"Good to see you are both still here," he chuckled, trying to lighten his mood.  
"Nowhere else for us to go," Thane answered, more seriously.  
"Yes, well, we can't have you wandering off," he answered.  
"Anyways, I have some interesting news for you,” he continued, pausing and trailing off when he looked back to Chalandra.  
His hand trembled a little under the desk, being an uncontrollable reaction when he saw her.  
"Alright," Thane said, trying to get him to continue.  
"In light of current events, you and your fiancée, Chalandra, will be sent to the main camp eighteen miles north of here. There, you will be fully interrogated and then your path will be decided."  
"Why are you sending us there? We have given you almost all the information you need. I am willing to tell you anything necessary," Thane protested, realizing the danger that would put them in.  
"Oh, there's no need to worry. If you are as cooperative with them as you were with me, there will be no trouble at all." he replied, avoiding his direct question, "In fact, if you are helpful, you will be released and permitted to integrate into society. You would be placed into a small village and given full immunity."  
"But why are you sending us there?"  
"I believe you will be of more value there. Besides, I do not have the power to release you after I am finished interrogating you, while they do. It is in your best interest to go there."  
"However, they also have nearly every prisoner you have taken and do not care if a few are killed in order to get information. If you send us there, you are sending us to our deaths. They are not going to be as reasonable as you were, not to us."  
"No, believe me, they are plenty reasonable. They are sensible people and will deal with you justly in accordance with how you act. Give them the information, and you will be rewarded," he assured them.  
"If we do not?" Chalandra inquired, already knowing the answer but wanting him to say it so to drill the idea into his mind and make him understand.  
"If you are smart, you will not be silent. They are not kind to those who do not answer."  
"Then you are sending us to our deaths," Chalandra pressed, her voice firm but laced with sorrow.  
For a moment, he paused, once again challenged by the remarkable woman. He understood why Thane loved her so. She was marvelous. She managed to terrify him more than a lifetime of war had. Once again, he found his hands trembling uncontrollably. Taking a deep breath, he had a change of heart, feeling sympathy for the couple. So young and wishing for a great life ahead.  
"I will send you to the Yewflower camp. It's twelve miles east of here. They are a larger camp and get quite a few captives in there. They can release you, and they have a smaller number of prisoners. They will choose your fate from there."  
"Thank you," she said wholeheartedly.  
"Hue will take you at first light. But be warned, you will be brought before the General, and he is not always a kind man, though he deals with captives more, individually, than the main camp. For tonight, you will be given food and water. No one will disturb your rest tonight, so sleep best you can," he instructed, "Oh, and if we can assume you will not try to kill yourself again, you can be free without the bonds.”


	31. House of Untold Misdeeds

As commanded, they were let alone for the night. Some of the men brought water and food for them, through their faces showed that they were more than displeased to be serving those they considered to be inferior. However, the nourishment was gratefully received by them, as it had been many days since they had the stomach to eat anything at all. After they had been fed, they were let alone as instructed. For a while they sat together, in silence as they felt no need to speak. Early in the evening, they retired to bed. They each had been assigned a bed and given blankets. All through the night, Chalandra heard Thane as he groaned lightly in his sleep. Every time he rolled or moved, she could hear his pain. In time, his wounds would heal, but he would be left with the crisscross of scars for the remainder of his life. Scars she too would bear until the end of her days.  
Like they had been informed, a scowling Hue woke them early the following morning. Though angry about the situation, he gave them water and allowed them a few minutes to scarf down some stale biscuits. Then, almost immediately, he forced them to rise and begin the journey. For hopes of speed, they were permitted to ride their horses. Upon seeing their masters, both horses let out a shrill whiney of delight and pulled away from the men that fought to restrain them. They obviously had quite an ordeal trying to keep the two quiet, as the marks of the whip were evident on their bodies. But their wounds would heal, leaving no trace as no fresh blood stained them. Without realizing it was their normal way, Hue commanded them to ride without saddles, in hopes that it should slow them down should they try to escape. They were allowed to use their bridles but were tied behind the mounts of the men.  
Despite their steeds, the journey was slow. They never went faster than a trot, and that was only when they were greeted with a long, flat field of grass. Right out of the camp was only time there was such a place, for they rode almost immediately into a forest. Had they been there under any other circumstances, Chalandra would have desired to stay there for some time, for it was increasingly beautiful. Rather than a heavy, dark forest, it was a light one of vibrant green and filled with birdsong. The aspen trees grew up high into the air, yet the blue of the sky bled through its leaves. The path was overgrown some, but it did not hinder their great mounts, only those of the men.  
The further into the forest they went, the louder the sound of the brook became, yet no darker did the forest become. For the whole day the rode on the forest path. Their hands tied together yet holding the reins. They held the reins, but the men controlled their horses. Yet still, they were not forced to walk, and that was a great relief indeed. They never rested, not once. Eventually, they reached the creek they had heard for so long. Even then, the men did not pause to allow their steeds rest. They had only walked since they had entered the forest, so there was no need as the horses were still fresh. For a while they followed the sparkling creek as it tumbled over stone and rocks in its path. She longed to dip her feet into the shallow water, likely cool and crisp from the thawing winter.  
Chalandra felt a strange tingle run down her spine. Momentarily, she let go of the reins, intending to stroke Avaleth's neck. Instead, her fingers began to quiver uncontrollably. The shaking lasted for only a few seconds, but it haunted her. Curling her fingers together in a tight ball, she forced herself to shake off the strange feelings.  
On her left side, Thane had not seen, but did see the feeling of unrest pass over her.  
"Are you alright?" he asked.  
"Yes, I got this strange feeling a minute ago. Probably just the cold," she answered.  
Thane nodded solemnly but did not say anything more. Though she said nothing, she had a feeling from deep inside her that something was going to happen. It was the same feeling she had the morning before her home was burned, her mother killed, and before the Dendä army went to die. The feeling always haunted her, having always been warning her of evil before. This time, it was different, chilling, as though something else was going to begin.  
By the time the light began to fade, and the forest turn to dusk, a small sliver of smoke appeared on the horizon. Soon, it turned into a log cabin, the front windows illuminated by the flames of the fireplace. Within moments of it coming into view from amidst the trees, a man came out to greet them. He opened the gate surrounding his property for the travelers, so it was obvious he knew Hue well. Inside the wooden fence was a moderately sized courtyard. To the left was the house, and to the right was the stables.  
"Welcome!" the man greeted.  
He was a greasy, brown-haired man with a sly smile that captured a meaning of ill intention. His eyes darted around, searching every part of their bodies. Though his build was average, and his weight was rather light, he had an indulgent feeling about him. Before the canyon, Chalandra had never felt so suspicious about men upon first meeting them, but he was different. Dishonesty and wrong lingered about him.  
"Might I interest you in a tour of my humble home, Hue?" he asked.  
"Ah, Anders, it's been too long!" Hue laughed, dismounting his horse and shaking the man's hand and giving him a friendly slap on the back, "Go on then, show us around."  
"Very good, very good," he cackled.  
The other men dismounted and motioned for Chalandra and Thane to do the same. A moment later, they were on the ground. Immediately, the man started showing them around. There was a good deal of chickens that scurried about the yard, along with a few stray ducks. Near the front of the house, there was a small vegetable garden with a wide variety of food.  
"In the barn, we have two oxen, four pigs, and three drafts. I built the barn myself," he said, before taking them around the back of the house.  
Nothing in the yard caught Chalandra's eyes, until he led them to show them the sheep fields and servant's house around the back. There, behind the house, next to the wood pile, was a patch of freshly dug up dirt. It was a large rectangle and had clearly been recently done.  
"Anders, was it? What is that?" she asked.  
"Captives need to hold their tongue!" Hue snarled.  
"Oh, no don't worry, Hue. We recently had the misfortune of losing our fourth horse. That's where he is buried," he laughed nervously.  
"That is a small grave for a draft horse," Chalandra observed.  
For a moment, the man looked stunned, and he paused.  
"Yes, yes of course. That is because he was not a draft horse, but a children's pony."  
"You have three draft horses and a pony? That hardly seems right. I do not mean to pry, but why a pony and three draft horses?" she pressed.  
Again, the man paused. His hands shook, just a little, but it was a movement that Chalandra did not miss.  
"As I said, the pony was for the children, the drafts are for field work."  
"It takes two horses to pull a plow," Chalandra pointed out.  
The man looked stunned but drew in a breath after a pause.  
"Naturally, but it only takes one to pull a cart!” he snapped, obviously getting upset.  
"No need to get angry, sir, I merely am curious."  
"I have nothing to hide, if that's what you're after!" he exclaimed angrily.  
"I never accused you of it. One more question though, why bury a horse so close to the house? Was he very precious to you? Did you children love him so?"  
"Indeed, they did," he shot back.  
Hue then approached her, his hand raised.  
"Captives are to remain silent until spoke to!" he spat, leaning in close enough for her to smell his reeking breath.  
"Show us the servants’ quarters?" Chalandra requested, ignoring Hue.  
"Oh," Anders coughed, "No, no, you don't want to see those."  
"I would like to, in fact. I was a servant for many years, and so to see other's quarters and see that they are well cared for gives me great pleasure."  
"But we respect the privacy of them, and never invade their personal space," he blurted quickly.  
Again, Hue stepped towards her. This time, he raised his hand as though to strike her. Instead of trying to stop him, or even protesting, at least cringing, as an honest man would, the man grinned.  
"That is a warning," snarled Hue, pointing a finger in her face.  
"Then consider this my warning to you!" Thane shot, grabbing him and pulling him away from Chalandra. Roughly, he shoved him to the ground. Sometime in the last few minutes, he had managed to free himself.  
"Bind him!" Hue screamed.  
Without protest, Thane allowed himself to be re-tied.  
"It will do you no good. In defense of Chalandra, I will escape any bonds you try to restrain me with. Consider that your warning and leave her alone," he growled, taking Chalandra's hand, though he was bound once more.  
Hue sighed, as he knew he was bested. Had they been less valuable, he would have beat them both to a bloody pulp, but he could not help but remember his superior’s warning. His commander was afraid and had sternly warned him against harming them, so for this once, he had to admit defeat.  
"I suppose we have seen enough of your home now. However, if you have some food..."  
"Certainly, Certainly! Right this way," Anders said, taking them around the house and leading them into his home.  
The cabin smelled of cooking vegetables, not a bad smell in a small amount, but the walls and floors reeked of the same stew, cooked over and over again. It was a repulsive odor, even to Chalandra who usually enjoyed the smell of all foods, having gone without for so long. Yet under the smell, laced into it so to conceal the hideous truth, the home smelled of brew.  
The man took them to his left, leading them down into a small dining room. The space was not nearly large enough for all of them, as Hue’s additional men numbered five in total, so he led the two captives down into the sitting room for the only exit was through the dining room. In that room they found several chairs, along with a long wooden bench. The moment they entered, they were greeted with children playing, who ran up to see what the commotion was.  
"Who are you?" they asked, looking over the two strangers who stood in their home.  
The man had already disappeared, leaving them alone with his offspring. Chalandra and Thane seated themselves on the floor, finding the rugged beams more comfortable then the bench.  
"We are passerbys, simply on a long journey to another land," Thane answered, shielding the innocents from the harsh truth.  
Another moment longer, the three children, two young boys and one girl, explored their visitors. The girl touched Chalandra's hair and face, trying to see who this woman was. The boys looked at Thane's strong arms and his wiry hair.  
"If you are merely strangers on a journey, why are your hands tied?" the elder boy asked, holding up Chalandra's bound hands for Thane to see, as though he did not already know, "Is she your prisoner?"  
"No, no, she is certainly no prisoner of mine. She is not my captive, but that of those we travel with. I would give anything to free her."  
"Do you love her then? Like Father loved that other lady? She even looks like the other lady," the young girl asked, tracing Chalandra's braided hair.  
"The other lady? Your mother?" Chalandra asked.  
Had she not been bound, she would have taken the child onto her lap.  
"No, not mother. The other lady that father used to bring in here to tend to us. She was our servant. I don't rightly know what happened to her though..." the middle boy chimed in.  
"Yes, I do love her. She and I are going to be married in the future," Thane said, answering the first boy's question, "Now, what are you names then?"  
"My name's William, and I'm the oldest."  
"I'm John."  
"My name is Mary, but I am not the youngest any longer. Mother just had another baby," said the young girl proudly.  
"It's a pleasure to meet you all," Chalandra smiled, looking at the children, now lined up as they recited their names.  
"What did you do so wrong that would make you a captive?" asked William.  
Chalandra looked down, unsure how to explain the truth to the young children. Just then, a heavy woman around the same age as their host came in with two bowls of stew.  
"Here you two are," she said loudly, pushing the food into their hands.  
"They said you didn't need none, but I won't 'ear of guests in my house not being fed!" she laughed, setting down the two bowls. "Now, you youngons, mind your manners, you 'ear? Be nice to our guests, don't give 'um no trouble."  
"Yes mother," sighed William, knowing it was directed at him.  
As quickly as she had come in, the woman left. For a few moments, Chalandra and Thane looked at the steaming bowls of soup, unsure how they were going to eat it. Finally, Thane picked up his bowl and leaned in very close, bringing it to his mouth with both hands, as they were tethered together. Chalandra followed his suit a moment later. Although the house reeked of it, the food tasted fine. Besides, it was the first thing she had to eat all day. It mostly consisted of vegetables but had some manner of broth. Their portions had no meat, for which she was glad as she would be rather skeptical of its origins. Not that the woman was not kind, but she did not trust the man. He was hiding something, that much she knew too well. Unsure about her questions and overactive when she pressed, he was trying to keep something hidden, but what she did not know. She feared only what her heart told her. That he had harmed one of their own.  
What had he done? Obviously, something worth hiding, hence his nervousness about the grave. But what had he done? Had he killed someone? Someone had died on his property, someone worth hiding? Who was he hiding it from? The world? The soldiers? Thane and her? Why hide it in the first place? There was nothing she or Thane could do, not in their current situation.  
Something called to her. Some sliver of destiny echoing back to bend around her. It warned her of a future, but whether it was good or bad as yet to be decided. Yet it was there, the steady, unmistakable feeling of a future. Some kind of lingering destiny that would someday affect her, but had not yet come to pass. A quiver down her spine that promised there was more. This is not the end, there is more. There is more to this tale, yet to be told. But how? Would she live to see more beyond this captivity? This was surely her end, so how could there be more? No, this was her end. Say nothing to Thane, for fear it would drive him mad. No, it would concern him again. No need to trouble his mind with even more things.

That night, they were provided with nowhere to sleep but the ground. It did not trouble them, not after having slept on the hard stone on their journey. Instead, this was a relief as they had the rug to lay on. Thane took Chalandra into his arms and kissed her head, though the bindings restricted him. The only nights they had slept in close company was when the men seemed especially drunk. Then it was for Chalandra's protection. Strong brews have a great influence over already vile men. Their cruel intentions can be felt all around, their lust reeks in the air around them. On those nights, Thane held her close, prepared to do whatever necessary to protect her. This was one of those nights.  
The master of the house had some strong ale set aside from last spring, so it was perfect and ready for drinking. All his guests and he had indulged well beyond a moderate amount and were laughing loudly just after sunset. The mother had ushered the children off to bed and passed the two a few sympathetic looks. She knew her husband well, all too well. When under a strong influence of drink, he, an already unstable man, would become even worse. It was likely that his companions would amuse him enough, but she feared for the beautiful young woman. Granted though, she had a strong counterpart whom was obviously very attached to her and would be likely protect her if the time came.  
They had been left alone for some time, when finally, Hue stumbled in to check on his captives.  
"Get up!" he barked with an unnecessary kick in Thane's back  
He groaned and rolled over, looking at the man with hurt. His blow was directly in the wounds that still burned with red flame. Though in pain, he said and did nothing. Chalandra woke up immediately and jumped to her feet. She stepped towards the offender without fear and looked him straight in the eye. The smell of alcohol was strong on his breath.  
"Drinking on duty, are you?" she snapped, her voice firm, unafraid, and accusing as she stepped towards him.  
She stood mere inches away from his nose. The man's expression changed from pleasure in another's pain to that of an irrational fear. Thane slowly rose to his feet, muffling a groan as he stood. He stepped up to her and pulled her back with his tied hands.  
"No, leave him be," he commanded softly, fearing for her safety.  
Chalandra set her jaw and let him pull her back. The man scoffed and spat at her feet, trying to mask his previous fear.  
"Yeah, the masser o' this 'ome gave us some brew. None o' yer business though," he laughed. "Besides, I can do whatever I want, drunk or not. No one cares for your kind, you the captives, the prisoners. There is no harm in playing a little with the trophy.”  
Raising his arm, he prepared to slap her across the face with the back of his hand. Thane tried to pull her away, but she stood firm. As he brought his hand towards her delicate cheek, she raised her chin a little and stood, unblinking. Not even a sharp breath was drawn in fear. Right before his hand whipped across her face, he stopped.  
"Consider that your only warning!" he barked, trying to cover the reality of his feelings.  
"I believe I have already been given one warning, earlier in the evening, by you, if I recall correctly. Go on then, do it," she challenged.  
Meekly, he backed away, muttering something about being needed for something else. As he tried to leave the room, he stumbled clumsily, half from drunkenness, half from fear. He was afraid. Never had a woman, a warrior or not, never had a man, a leader or not, stood so firm in the face of pain and punishment. For a woman, especially of her seemingly delicate and fragile form, to stand so still and be so bold was unheard of. She was without fear. There was no touch of fear flashing in her eye, there was no attempt nor desire to avoid it. She was fearless. What would a woman with so little fear become? That was what scared him so.


	32. Closer to the Dark

Late into the night, the group laughed in sporadic bursts, their sounds echoing through the house. It kept them awake, despite the comforts of the warm fire at their back and the soft rug beneath them. Thane was unable to sleep for fear of Chalandra's safety, but she was unable to sleep due to their noisiness. Despite the comfort of his arms, she remained wide awake. It was well after midnight when the laughter slowly began to die down and the house grew quiet.  
"Thane," she whispered, her voice low and serious. "Let us go, let us run."  
"We cannot, for I fear for your safety."  
"I fear for both of ours if we do not. Come, let me see your hands. I can undo the bindings," she encouraged, grabbing his hands and untying the knot  
Her hands shook as she did so, though Thane seemed not to notice. There was something that called to her, something that wanted her. This was not the end, it was only the beginning.  
"They are drunk, they will not wake. We can get away before they wake."  
"Quietly then, Beautiful Light. I fear for what would happen if we were caught," he instructed, undoing her bindings as well. "You go ahead and find our horses, I will see if I can scavenge any of our weapons."  
After planting a quick kiss on his lips, she stood and started to the door. No one stirred as she walked, though she did not pass through the kitchen, where they all slept. She went straight to the door, body trembling as she did so. Yet she bore no signs of trembling. She was being called. Whether by destiny or evil, something was calling to her. Something wanted her to continue on the path she was on. There was something more.  
Reaching for the handle, she felt her hand tingling with energy. Drawing in a deep breath, she waited to face the snow. Snow? How did she know there was snow? It seemed unlikely given they had been outside with little indication of snow earlier. But she knew. She knew there was now snow, and that it fell softly, bringing a fresh blanket of white to the forest. And she wanted to touch it, to feel it upon her face.  
As she opened the door, she felt the icy slap of the cold wind across her face. And she smiled. Though it seemed irrelevant, she pulled out the tie that kept her hair in a braid, allowing her golden locks to be free to the wind's command. She began to laugh, though she remembered the severity of the situation and fell silent. Tying the strip of leather around her wrist, she raised her arms and let the wind swirl around her. She was free. In that moment, she knew she would never be a captive again. She never could be. No one could ever have her again.  
Finally, she closed the door behind her hand began to depart across the courtyard towards the barn. Though the wind howled around her, she did not shudder, nor did she quiver at the cold embrace. She embraced it. Her paces made no sound, nor did her footsteps leave an imprint on the fresh blanket below. And as she reached the barn, she looked back. Behind her, she saw no tracks, only the spiral of snow about her. The house, the wretched house that held so much darkness, so much mystery. If Thane were not by her side, she would have burned it to a char. She hated it. So much sorrow reeked in that place. So much pain. As much as the home in which she had been a captive. More, even. And she wanted it gone. Yet, as Thane would always show mercy, and had shown her mercy, she too would show mercy, this time.  
Smiling again as she reached the barn, she grasped the handle and threw back the doors. Inside it was warm, but she cared not for the temperature. Her mind was focused on something else. On escaping. On freedom. She craved it. The unmatchable sensation of being free. After so many years choking on the reality of belonging to someone else, freedom was the sweetest. Nothing matched it, nothing ever could. She wanted to be free again. She was not going to live and die at the hands of those who had slaughtered her people. She was going to live at no one’s command but her own.  
Inside the barn, the sweet smell of hay and the sweat of horses enveloped her. It was dimly lit, but she was still able to see due to her keen senses. Again, her hands trembled, just once. Surprised, she glanced down. On the back of her hand, she saw light. Silver light. Only for a second, before it vanished again. But it was there. A flash of light, overpowering the darkness. Shaking her aching head, she slammed the barn door shut behind her and turned to the horses. The barn was large, especially for such a small property. There were six stalls on either side, the first three on the right housing three large draft horses, then the others providing temporary homes for the soldier's horses. On the very end, on the right, she saw her mare. Smiling, she walked soundlessly to her side. Her mare greeted her with a nicker and put her head over the stall door.  
"Hush, Avaleth," she muttered fondly, stroking her mare's white blaze  
Aearion stamped his hooves, eager for some action more than standing and ambling along a trail. They were warhorses, bred for much more than such demeaning work.  
"Come now, I am going to get you out of here," she assured them both, grabbing the bridle that was hanging on her mare's stall door.  
Unlocking the door, she swung it open into the barn aisle and tossed the reins over her horse's head. The mare accepted the bit eagerly and allowed her mistress to bridle her. Once her mare was bridled, she grabbed Aearion's. The stallion tossed his head and snorted, then settled down and allowed her to put the bridle on.  
"Go on then, go to the door," she instructed, pointing towards the barn door, "I need to slow down the soldiers."  
As commanded, the two horses walked towards the barn door. As she followed them, walking down the barn aisle, she unlatched each of the door in turn. Curious and frightened from the storm, the horses took the first chance they had to leave their stalls. Although the Dendä steeds remained silent, as commanded, the soldiers’ horses did not. They began to fight between each other, only a little. But their racket of squealing made her fear that they would be discovered.  
"Hush, all of you. You are alright. You are going to run free," she promised, approaching the barn door and throwing it open with great force, "Go on then!”  
Without another word, the horses began to trickle out.  
"Go!" she called out, slapping on horse's rump as he exited the barn.  
He startled and jumped forwards. Though she stood back in the shadows, she smiled as the horses raced towards the starlight. One horse, one surprised horse. That was all it took for the guard's placid horses to begin a surge into the starlight. They rushed towards the woods, stretching their legs and discovering their newfound freedom. The tails streamed behind them, their banner of freedom. They had likely not galloped like that for years. And although she had freed them out of necessity, it felt good to give another creature their freedom.  
She nodded once as she watched them race back the way they had come earlier in the day, towards the icy stream. They had found their freedom, now she had to claim hers. Turning back around, she grabbed the reins of the two faithful horses.  
"Go, go to the edge of the clearing, just over there, and wait for Thane and I. We will come, soon, but you must go and wait for us," she instructed, pointing towards the woods.  
Though they did not fully understand her words she knew they would do as she asked. For a moment, Avaleth hesitated, but with a gentle cluck of her tongue, the mare snorted a goodbye and started towards the forest. Aearion followed closely behind her, and the two of them picked up a slow trot as they fulfilled their mistress's command.

The barn was now empty. To her, it seemed devoid of purpose, but still, she allowed it to remain. Though she wished to damage the owner of the property as much as possible, she let it go. She did not burn it with a lantern on the hay, but instead turned to depart. As she stepped towards the doorway, she heard the shaky breath of a man paired with the rustle of straw as he shifted. Immediately, her gaze fell upon the intruder. He stumbled to his feet. Even from where she stood, several feet away, she could smell the stink of ale on his breath.  
"What have you done?" he inquired, his hands trembling but he was angry nonetheless.  
"I would be more concerned about yourself, especially given you fell asleep on duty," she answered, stepping towards him.  
"What I do is none of your concern," he hissed back, raising a small knife which he had pulled from his belt.  
"Perhaps not, but I hardly think you wish to be known as the one who sleep whilst your captive escaped and let the horses loose," she returned, taking another step towards him.  
She smiled at the glint of his blade. It did not strike fear in her, it did not make her hesitate. It made her wish him dead. She wished to run him through with her own blade, to watch the life drain from his body as he wheezed his last. Any other time, that thought, those wishes, would haunt her. But now, now she just wanted to kill him.  
"Don't come any closer, or I'm calling the others."  
"Go on, call them. In doing so you convict yourself."  
"They already know I was drinking. I was with them the whole time,” he objected.  
"Then you have nothing to lose. See if they answer, if you will. They are deep in drunken sleep, I doubt they will respond. The only thing that I can assure you is that they will not be pleased to find their horses are all gone," she responded, smiling as she took another step towards him.  
"Hue! Hue! Get out here!" he screamed, his shriek filling the air.  
Chalandra scoffed and closed the distance between them.  
Even the drunk men could not fail to hear his cry: "The prisoners are escaping!"  
Her blood boiling with rage, she attempted to grab the man. He was drunk, but not quite enough to fail to remember he was armed, and she was weaponless. Brandishing the knife, he shoved it into her body, just below her left breast. Then ripped it out, realizing he had stabbed the prisoner. They needed her alive, but now she would be lucky to survive a few minutes. Pain surged through her body as she bent over, her scarlet blood dripping to the dirt. Staggering forward, her veins flooded her body with adrenaline.


	33. The Dark Which Consumes All

From inside the musty house, Thane heard the screams of the guard. Immediately, he sprang into action. In the kitchen, the drunken men, strewn about, started to stir. He had been so quiet, tried too hard to prevent them from waking as he searched for their weapons. Yet now they woke. Spotting their weapons in the corner, he snatched them as quickly as possible and made for the door. Hue, though he was inhibited by his excessive consumption of ale, dove after Thane in drunken fury. He stumbled to his feet and staggered after him. Finding himself pursued, Thane spun around and slashed him across the chest with a knife. Enraged and in pain, he cried out. He would not die, but he would suffer. The others began to rise, though they were moving far too slow to catch Thane as he made for the door, slinging his quiver over his shoulder as he ran.  
Touching her wound, Chalandra lifted her hand to find it bloodied. She drew in a sharp breath, only to find strength. The soldier back away, dropping the knife out of fear of his actions. Hue was going to string him up for what he had done. He had said these were the most valuable prisoners they had ever met, certainly more valuable than one soldier's life. Yet it was not Hue that killed him.  
Standing up straight, Chalandra took another short breath, then stepped forward toward the man. Power resonated through her. She could feel it, with every quiver of her heart. She could feel the sickening power. There was so much, so much more, than what she had known before. Now she could see it. All of it. She could see every breath, every step, every choice of her life. She saw her life. Her past. Her present. Her future. Everything that ever could have been, and ever would be. Every single thought that she had which in turn sent waves out into the world. That every choice she had ever made, and ever would make, would impact everything. She saw her life. Every moment of every day. Every dream, every heartbeat. And it was beautiful.  
She saw her life, as it was, as it could be, and how it should have been. Now she understood, she understood every word the shadow had uttered to her in that cave. She understood why, and she understood how. It was necessary, that her life was this way, in order for him to survive. He had forced her life to be this way. That thought nearly drove her into mad fury. But her love for Thane stayed her hand. She would not, could not, give up now. Allow herself to turn to the very darkness he had tried to keep her from. To shield her from. The way her life was, it was because of that shadow. He had made her who she was. He had tried to make her weak, but he had failed. For no matter how her life had turned out, she understood one thing. Her path had only led here because of his influence. This was not her life, not as it should have been.  
This was the one road that took her away. That brought her toward moment. No matter if she had been free to discover her true power, free of the shadow's influence. No matter had she been free from her very power, the one that now pulsated through her. All paths lead her away for this moment. Instead, she had been forced here. To this very moment. This very breath. This very heartbeat. And she knew what was going to happen.  
Drawing in a shaky breath, she smiled a little, and let her hands drop from her wound. It did not matter. Nothing mattered, not now. Raising a bloodied hand, she watched as the man fell to the floor in a lifeless heap, his clothes pooling around him, as though he had never even existed. Lifeless and soulless. She smiled as the man left the earth, his departure reflecting in the swirl of a universe within her eyes. He was gone, and she was pleased.  
And though she felt the power surge through her veins, she felt a pang as she turned. Drawing a shaky breath, she let her hand return to her side. It did not matter what power she had, she was dying. She had to find him, if only to die by his side.  
She was old, her life had been long, and though full of hardship, worth every second of pain. The joy Thane had brought into her life made every lonely night in which she writhed in pain on the stone floor, her blood spilling out onto the floor seem like nothing, a mere scratch. She could die, as she had felt joy and sorrow. She was ready to die, her only regret that Thane and she would never marry. But perhaps it was for the better. He could move on, find a woman to bear him children in this world. Revive the race humans rejected and slaughtered, though little did they know destroying the Dendä would someday bring their own demise upon them.  
Yes, he could find a woman better suited for himself, one that was perfect and without blemish, unlike her. He deserved that, and she could never offer perfection. Thane himself was without stain, and now he could find a woman, human or Dendä, to match that perfection. Even with these comforting thoughts, her passing would still be bittersweet. She would never experience the joy of being married to the man she so deeply loved and cared for, but he would be better off without her. If the myths were true, about departed Dendä being able to see the living from above, she could watch his life unfold. All his joys and sorrows she could see, though in no way could she shape his future, like she would on earth. In no way could she protect him, but he was a strong man, capable of looking out for himself.  
Now she had peace. She was going to be at peace with her passing, she had to be. There was no stopping this fate. Something had guided her here, and therefor bring upon her death. She was meant to die today. And so, she resolved to be at peace with her passing.  
But there was more still. Though she was at peace with her near future, she felt as though there was more. All of her paths could not lead to this moment for nothing. There had to be more to her tale. As far as she could see, there was not. But something else told her this was not the end, not yet. She had been slated for something, something she had not yet finished, and for that reason, there would be more.  
The pain had spread to her abdomen, but was the sharpest pain came from her ribcage, just below her left breast, where the wound bled freely. She would have to hide it, lest Thane may try to prevent her death and therefor bring upon his own in some way. The pain in her abdomen was more of an emptiness, and did not hinder her, but the pain under her ribs was severe. A pain that great was difficult to mask, but she was able to in her great power. Closing her eyes, she tried to shut out the pain, but it was difficult. Still, she had to find Thane. She needed to by his side. She needed him to be at peace with her passing, to be at peace with her own passing.  
Stumbling out of the barn, leaving the lifeless body of the guards behind her, she fell. Her hands hit the snow, breaking her fall, though barely. She was weak, yet filled with power. Fighting for breath, she forced herself to stand again, and rose to her feet, leaving the snow beneath her crimson with blood. Again, she shut her eyes, trying to fight the pain. This time, it worked. She found the power, strength. Opening her eyes again, she drew in a deep breath, and felt power resonate through her veins. She saw a brief flicker of light as someone opened the door to the house, letting the firelight dance through the storm.  
"Chalandra!" she heard Thane call, as he ran to her side.  
Smiling, she touched his hand, her own sticky with blood.  
"We need to leave, now," she replied, the tone of her voice portraying the urgency.  
A single tear rolled down her cheek, proving this was a desperate matter.  
"You are cold," he said at the touch of her hand. "Are you alright?"  
"We need to leave now!" she repeated.  
"We are, we are. Everything will be alright," he assured her, wiping her single tear away.  
With that, Thane pulled Chalandra towards the woods, where the horses were waiting. He was laden with their weapons, but it did not slow him down nor cause him to falter. A moment later, three men burst into the courtyard, bows at the ready. They no longer cared about keeping the captives alive, they simply did not want them to escape. Seeing the fleeing captives, they rained their arrows down upon them.  
Letting go of Chalandra's hand, Thane turned and returned fire, sending his own arrows flying. One of the men let out a cry and doubled over, desperate to survive.  
"Run!" Thane commanded.  
As he had instructed her to, Chalandra kept running. As she neared the forest, she stopped, turning back in order to call to Thane. It was then the pain took over her body. She cried out in pain as blood poured out, staining her clothes and the fresh white snow dark red.  
"Chalandra!" Thane screamed, assuming she had been shot.  
He ran towards her, arrows nipping at his heels. Within seconds, he was by her side, lifting her into his arms and running her into the forest. The world was a blur, everything moving in slow motion. He had ran towards her more slowly than a walk, and she watched as every arrow hit the ground and as he cast aside their weapons at the sight of her falling. Her body was limp in his arms; lifeless as he carried her to safety.  
After Thane lay her on the ground, he looked down horror at the blood pouring out of his beloved. Her dress was covered, the new snow he had just placed already turning to red, and his own shirt had dark stains from her wound. Frantic to find the injury itself, Thane moved his hands quickly down her body, soon finding the gaping hole.  
"Chalandra, you have been stabbed!" he cried, inspecting the wound.  
He pulled his shirt over his head and wadded it up into a ball. Frantic, he placed it over her wound and pressed down as hard as he could without hurting her. Grimacing from the pressure on her wound, she inhaled sharply. She knew he was trying to help, but it burned like red flame.  
"I know, I know," she choked, fighting for breath  
Though her hands were sticky with the red blood, she took his large, rough hands in hers and caught his gaze.  
"Do not worry, you will be fine," he cried, trying to convince himself of the very things he said, though he knew it was not true.  
"No, my part is over. My life has come to an end," she muttered, already feeling the draining of her life.  
Thane looked deep into her eyes. Pulling out a knife from his boot, he drew it to his chest and aligned it with his heart.  
"I will not live a moment without you," he swore, his hand steady. "The time I have spent with you has been the happiest of my life, and I will not endure all the ages of this world without the one I love. We can die together, for if you too are gone, there is nothing left for me in this world.”  
Shaking her head and raising her hand, though she winced in agony, Chalandra grabbed the hand that held the knife. His face turned to sorrow, not bravery, and his grip on the weapon softened. Gently, she pulled it from his hands.  
"No, no," she whimpered.  
Her voice laced with pain as she cast the knife aside. It fell to the earth with dull clatter.  
"Thane, if there is one thing I wish you to do, it is live on. You must do it, for me. You have a life ahead of you. Find a wife, have a family," she encouraged.  
Thane looked over the pain-twisted face of Chalandra.  
"I will never look at another woman with love. No other woman could be loved by me. Even before I met you, no one was beautiful in my eyes. It was a dull world of battle after battle. It was meaningless. I do not want that again," he explained between tears. "I do not want to be alone again. You cannot leave me!" he sobbed.  
"Thane, you will never be alone. I will always be with you," Chalandra comforted, straining to lift her hand to his head.  
"Here," she whispered, touching his forehead, "In your memory.”  
“And here," she said, letting her hand drop to his chest, "In your heart. You do not have to love another, I cannot force that. But I give you my blessing, know this."  
"I want to be with you, forever. If that means in death, so be it!" Thane answered.  
"Will you not honor my last wish? It is for you to go, to go on and live a life, for me," she stuttered.  
"I will, for you," he pledged through tears.  
Drawing in a sharp breath, Chalandra knew her time was fast approaching. Squeezing his hand as pain shot through her body, she coughed as blood filled her lungs.  
"I love you Thane," she coughed.  
"I love you Chalandra, I always will," Thane promised.  
Leaning down, he kissed her lips one last time. In the kiss, she departed the world and felt no more pain. With a heart of lead, Thane looked down at the still body that was once Chalandra. Clasping her delicate hand in his rough ones, he lifted it to his face and sobbed. When he was finally able to control his heartbreak, it was just long enough to carry out her last wishes.  
Thane looked down at her most precious thing-her ring. With an even heavier heart, he slowly removed the silver band from her left ring finger.  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he apologized as he took off her engagement ring, "I fear your body will be pillaged and your ring taken. I know you would never want that."  
Seeing the leather strip she always used to tie back her hair around her wrist, he untied it and grasped it firmly. Pushing away his hair, Thane pulled the two ends of the thong together, knotting it securely around his neck. He looked down at his makeshift necklace and tucked it into his shirt, wanting her to always remain on his heart.  
Finally, Thane felt the nagging pain that he had to leave. He had promised. Looking up to the sky, the sun was just on the rise. She had died at dawn. Pressing her ring to his heart, he began walking, very slowly at first. The pain in his heart was greater than any physical pain he had ever experienced; a pain that would never subside.  
By some miracle, he soon was able to pull himself away from his still fiancée. He gained distance quickly, moving silently through the night. Behind him lay Chalandra. Her clothing soaked with blood around the knife wound with her right hand covering the wound. Her left hand lay straight out, the fingers half curled towards her palm. Chalandra's golden hair was left freely on the ground, spread out across the grass. Her green eyes stayed open, forever fixed on Thane as he kissed her one last time. Head tilted to the left, her lips were pale from the loss of blood and parted slightly. Crimson blood left a thin stream down the left side of her chin, as her lungs had filled with blood.  
There she lay, not out of a disregard on Thane' part, as he would have gladly buried her, but because urgency and her last requests had blinded him. The snow began to gently fall; a few flakes covered her hair. His body numbed by pain, Thane stumbled into the forest. Nothing could console him. Nothing would ever give him reason to live. She was gone. Sinking to his knees, he let the pain of his sorrow wash over him. He wept bitterly, but soon felt a great rage pass through his veins. They had killed her, and they would pay. All of them. Standing up again, he drew his knife from his belt and threw it into a tree with incredible force. There was nothing to stop him now, for the woman he loved was gone. In the last few days, when he had nothing left, she had been his voice of reason. Now, he was unchecked. His last, most precious thing, ripped away from him.  
"You took her, and you will pay for it!" he promised, walking in drunken agony towards the villages of men.


End file.
